Read Me Sometimes, Think of Me Often.

2011-08-01T10:00:00.000-07:00

So my friends Marianne and Damo told me about some free show on the beach in Bray on Saturday night, and since I had no plans and it wasn't raining, I thought sure what the hell, that sounds fun!

I had heard of the musician, Damien Dempsey, but I had never heard his music or really anything about him. Marianne warned me that it wasn't everyone's cup of tea but I went in with an open mind.

When we got to Bray, there were amusements! We didn't go on them, but I took some photos, of course. Before we left Dublin, we got some beers and such (they got beers; I got such), and we realized when we got there that there was security and no booze allowed! That was easy for me and my little bottle of whiskey, but not so much for the other guys with their big bottles of beer! So they covertly buried the bottles in the "sand" (rocks) to be retrieved after the show.

By the time Damien Dempsey was going on, it was getting dark and the Ferris wheel lit up the sky.

Well it's safe to say I'm a Damien Dempsey fan now. He was fantastic! And the crowd had this real fraternal energy that was infectious. I took photos of people jumping up and down, singing along, fists pumping.

And I also recorded the people around me: Voice001 by changela It was the kind of experience that just makes you feel closer to the people around you, feel more alive, feel more tender and raw but so, so happy.

Here was this guy I'd never seen before singing songs I'd never heard before, and yet I felt like I got his whole deal and I wanted to be part of it too. But not knowing the songs, I made another recording of people singing along: Voice002 by changela And then - the icing on the cake! Marianne tugged on my arm and called my attention to the back of the stage, and who should be standing there, singing backup but Sinéad O'Connor! Unfortunately you couldn't hear her, and he never announced that she was there (it's almost like he didn't know himself), but it was definitely her. I snapped a photo, but you can barely see her!

Still, I was thrilled. You can listen to Damien Dempsey's music (streaming) by clicking here.

Then coincidentally, some friends of theirs were playing in a pub down the street, so we went to have a gander. I chatted with a very nice guy named Allen who told me about how he is trying to convince his girlfriend to move with him to Canada. I sure hope she does! Allen, if you're out there, remember the selling points we discussed and you won't go wrong! (I'm pretty sure we outlined an entire strategy, and it was brilliant.)

Our second show was also a good time, and I'm proud to say that even after a few drinks, I am still fully able to make quality napkin earplugs for myself. Gotta take care of those ears, you know!

Unfortunately, we eschewed the last train to Dublin so it was an expensive cab ride back (luckily shared between 4 of us), but it was worth it! All in all, a fantastic night.

2011-07-31T11:41:00.000-07:00

Despite the fact that I cycle past the Botanic Gardens to and from work four days a week, I hadn't been there for months and months! My friend Marianne and I were in that part of town watering a friend's plants (she watered; I watched), so we decided to pop in for a walk around. I do miss living near the Botanic Gardens. The roses were beautiful, the greenhouses were warm and fetid, and the conversation was stimulating.

It's nice to interrupt yourself to notice all the beautiful plants around you and marvel at weird looking specimens. We tried to get the meat eating plants to bite our fingers, but no luck.

And I took a snap of this plaque in one of the greenhouses:

2011-07-27T13:15:00.000-07:00

Here I am, still trying to make more posts, even if briefly!!

Last night we headed over to free Comedy at Patriot's Inn. Actually, first we ate dinner in the restaurant upstairs, called La Dolce Vita. Since it's located in a touristy area (next to the Hilton, IMMA, and Kilmainham) so it's pricier than maybe what it should be, but I'll tell ya, I enjoyed the hell out of my pizza. It was some of the best pizza I've had since moving to this pizza-challenged country. The bruscetta featured heaps of tomatoes, and it was garlicy and tasty. However, stay away from the onion rings -- they aren't real.

Anyhoo, I don't actually remember the first comedian, and I tried looking it up just now but I can't find it anywhere. He did some funny bits about typography. The second comedian was someone I'd actually seen before, an American ex-pat named Aidan Bishop. He was trying out material for a new show, and it was actually just as fun to hear the jokes that didn't go so well as it was the ones that did. I think he'll be one to watch out for.

Today my work had a team building outing, and we took an excursion to The Battle of the Boyne in County Meath. The weather was absolutely stunning. First, we did the tour and learned a bit about the battle. Here's my co-worker, Roger, with a wax figure. You have to guess which one Roger is.

Here's Jenny having a laugh with a jolly soldier:

In fact, there were some well dressed characters there:

After a riveting film on the Battle of the Boyne, we had a little breakfast and coffee on the picnic tables, and then took a walk around the grounds.

It couldn't have been nicer out. In fact, I felt so content that I took a contented legs photo, as longtime readers know I am wont to do:

This photo didn't come out in any way scenic, but I'm throwing it in just for the hell of it:

Our walk was followed by lunch and a game of rounders. Then we lounged around on blankets under a tree until it was time to head back to Dublin. All in all, not bad for a day's work!

Trip to London!

2011-07-26T16:08:00.000-07:00

Of course there should have been at least four posts before this one that I put off writing...so I figured I shouldn't put off writing about our long weekend in London. This is going to be a long one because we did so much stuff! I hope I remember it all.

We took a 4:40pm flight into Gatwick, then hopped on the tube to our hotel, which was just at the edge of Hyde Park. We dropped off our things and then headed out almost immediately to grab some grub. I had printed out this long list of vegetarian restaurants in London, so we decided to try one in Soho. But unfortunately, by the time we got there, they were not seating anymore, so we went around the corner to an Indian restaurant that had gorgeous food. Then we moseyed over to a pub called the Nellie Dean for a couple of pints. Here's Mark enjoying the first of many warm pints.

We went back to the hotel for some shut eye, and then Friday morning I went for a lovely run through Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. Then we set out for some museuming. We got off at Waterloo and walked along Southbank (the Thames River) towards the Tate Modern, passing by all sorts of vendors and venues like the National Theatre. At the start of our walk, I snapped a photo of this art installation.

You could see the London Eye, which was around the way, but we didn't really feel like going up on it (read: one of us was too afraid).

Here's Mark looking at some used books for sale. He bought one for me!

We also ran into...JEDWARD! They were filming some kind of TV show. A small crowd had formed, and at first glance I said, "Hey look! Someone's dressed up at Jedward over there!" but no, it was actually them! We tried to get some photos, but you know Jedward, they don't stand still for very long.

We stopped and had really tasty veggie sausage subs and then headed to the Joan Miro exhibit. Holy smokes! What a fantastic experience. We shelled out the few extra bucks for the audio-guide, and the whole thing took a couple of hours to get through. It runs until September, and I urge anyone in London to visit it. We did a run-through of the rest of the museum, but I admit that it was cursory because we'd been so thorough in the Miro exhibit. Here are some photos of pieces that I found particularly compelling.

In particular, the Cy Twombly painting really energized Mark (it's the one with the orange circles).

After taking in the art, the weather was fine so we grabbed a seat at the Tate Modern outdoor cafe for some lunch. I ordered a bloody mary (which wasn't so great) and we ordered a bunch of little things to share. I just love eating at museum cafes. I can't help it! It feels luxurious. Here I am enjoying myself in the breeze.

By the time we were done eating, it was about half past five, so we crossed the river and wandered around until it was time to see the play in Soho I'd bought tickets for. We made our way leisurely and stopped into some shops.

We saw a play called Mongrel Island I liked that the play took place in an office, since I've had my fair share of office jobs: "Marie struggles to cope with her day to day life. She is hidden in an endless pile of files and the same people saying the same things every day." I hemmed and hawed for days over which play to see, but I chose this one because it seemed unique, new, and cheap. And I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed it. The description "Terry Gilliam’s Brazil meets The IT Crowd" was pretty apt.

After the play, we got a table at the restaurant we'd tried to go to the night before, Zilli Restaurant, which was excellent. And they had vegan tiramisu!! It was delicious. From there we went to a pub in Soho, but I didn't catch the name and to be honest they were kind of rude in there. Not a great vibe. And that was the end of our first day!

Saturday the weather wasn't as nice, but we didn't let that stop us! We ate a big breakfast at a hotel restaurant near where we were staying (our hotel was self-catering), then hopped onto the tube to the Imperial War Museum. We didn't have much time there, which is a shame. We visited the Holocaust section, which of course was harrowing. I left it in tears. One thing in particular that touched me was a video of a man talking about praying to God to save his family. He said that his prayers were not answered, and his family were all killed, so now he only meditates, but does not pray. He said he still believes in God, but not in the power of prayer. When you first walk into the museum, there is an impressive number of tanks and planes and such displayed.

My favorite exhibit was the Women War Artists, which is on until November 27, 2011. I wrote down a lot of names of artists I want to look up.

From there, we rushed off to the Hayward Gallery in Southbank for the Tracey Emin exhibition. I was not particularly a Tracey Emin fan before, but once I left, I sure was. Of course, photos were not allowed in the gallery. There were many pieces that I loved, but in particular I liked a video of Tracey Emin talking about her first abortion, which ended up being an incomplete termination that caused an internal infection. Her description of getting the abortion reminded me of my own experience, and although my own termination went smoothly (as smoothly as that can go), her story really resonates. The other installation that touched me was a video of Tracey and her father swimming in the ocean in turns, one swimming while the other filmed. It reminded me of a particular time when I was at he beach in Florida with my father, and he walked up to the water. A big wave came up and knocked him over. At first I was worried, but then he popped up, and we both had a good laugh. As I watched Tracey Emin's father falter in the waves, I saw him through her eyes, and realized that she must have had the same maternal feelings toward her father that I had towards mine. This exhibit ends on 29 September 2011 and I strongly suggest that anyone in the area visit it. You will enjoy it.

From there, we decided to walk toward Hoxton, our next destination. On the way, we happened upon a cemetery, which amongst others, was the resting place for William Blake, so we decided to pop in and have a looksee. It had only just stopped raining, so it was a bit dreary, but what should we see what a brightly colored piano and an equally brightly dressed woman named "Jezebel" playing it and singing!

I took a little video but sadly my camera memory became full so it's only about seven seconds long:

From there we headed to Zigfrid von Underbelly in Hoxton, where a Swedish musician, Action Biker, was playing along with three or four other acts as part of a night called Librarians Wanted.

We especially enjoyed the French band The Sunny Street. There, we met up with my friend Aug, whom I haven't seen since he moved to London (and I moved to New York) back in 2005. We probably should have stayed for the DJs after the show, but I was hungry, so we went off in search of food. I was not into Hoxton, I have to say. We found a crappy felafel place, "debated" what to do next, and finally just went back to the hotel.

Sunday morning, I went for another run in the park. What glorious weather! Mark went off to St. Paul's cathedral for mass (don't ask), and I showered up and headed to Notting Hill. When I got off the tube, I decided to eat at essentially the first place that looked decent, The Prince Albert. There, I had a fantastic vegetarian breakfast (complete with veggie sausage), and a so-so Virgin Mary (really, just tomato juice). Happily full, I walked in the direction of Portobello Road

and blissfully window shopped for ages. Actually, I didn't window shop. I was actually shopping, but I didn't buy very much.

So much to look at! It was fun pretending that I could have whatever I wanted, if only I could decide. In the end, I bought a skirt at a shop called Darimeya, which I'm so in love with I'm not sure where to wear it. The flea market was fun to ogle as well.

I met up with Mark as the vendors were packing up, but most of them were overpriced anyways, so I settled for taking photos instead.

Mark was hungry and we just weren't into the choices in the vicinity, so we walked back to The Prince Albert for some pints and dinner. But then I sure was ready for a nap, so it was back to the hotel for a snooze.

I was so comfy there, I almost wanted to bag out of our evening plans, but luckily I got myself together and we went to see our friend Holly at her place, where a gig was on -- a band called Pseudo Nippon.

I thought they were really funny and fun but I had missed Holly so much that we went upstairs for a good ole chat. She showed us around, and I was amazed by her giant espresso maker and giant courgette!

I'm afraid we talked her ear off a little, but hopefully she didn't mind. While waiting for the bus back to our hotel, we took these snaps. We had a good laugh over Holly's missing hand (ok, maybe you had to be there).

and here it looks like Holly might be wondering if she's about to get socked in the nose!

Monday morning - our last day!! We packed up our things and took a walk south through Hyde Park so Mark could see this crazy memorial to Prince Albert.

It's nuts! And huge!

We made our way on foot to the Victoria and Albert museum, but ultimately decided not to go in because it was just too overwhelmingly huge and we didn't have enough time. We'll have to put it on the list for our next London visit. So, after a stop for the worst Japanese food I have ever tasted (I actually didn't think it was possible), we arrived at the Saatchi Gallery.

We had a fantastic time there, what can I say?

The great thing about the Saatchi is that they let you take photos. Which I definitely did.

This last photo is me with two giant sculptures. I look even smaller than I usually do!

But that was it; we were out of time, and out of town. We took the bus to Victoria Station, hopped on the train to Gatwick airport, and were off back to Dublin. I bought myself some gorgeous Organic Scotch Whiskey at the duty free shop as a little souvenir.

This post has taken me several days to write. I feel like I left out a bunch of stuff, but so be it! We're both looking forward to our next trip to London!

2011-06-14T16:19:00.000-07:00

In an effort to make more frequent (but sadly briefer) updates, here I am, popping in real quick to comment on two shows I went to in the past week. The first was a "Frighten the Horses" event at Block T in Smithfield (a nice easy walk from our house) featuring Ophelia MC, a really impressive rapper, local group FELCH, a band from Berlin called Koolthing, and Brooklyn band MEN, which features JD Samson of Le Tigre fame.

I got the MEN album a few days prior to the show and listen to it about 20 times, so I was well pumped for the show. Unfortulately we missed the first band, FELCH. Ophelia MC was on when we arrived and she has mad skills! But the sound at Block T was inexcusably horrible. Unfortunately things did not improve with Koolthing, and once MEN came on, it was downright embarrassing. They nearly cut the set about two or three songs in, but as it was they only played for 30 minutes or so. The crowd was kind of oblivious to their own personal space, so I was (even more than usual) bounced around like a pinball all night, which made me pretty grouchy. Anyhoo - here's a little MEN video:

Last night we ventured to the Grand Social for D.R.I. (Dirty Rotten Imbeciles), an American punk band from the 80s. They hadn't played in Ireland for 22 years! The show was 90% dudes but I really enjoyed the show. Of course I didn't venture into the circle pit, but everyone there was really nice and respectful. Mark had a grand old time getting pummeled in the pit. Here's a youtube video of the show, for anyone interested:

2011-06-05T06:18:00.000-07:00

Here I am, trying to keep up with my posting! Yesterday I went to my first festival in Ireland. Well, ok, so some might say it wasn't a proper festival because there was no camping involved, but let's face it, I'm too much of a princess for camping with thousands of drunk people. That just does not appeal to me in any way, shape or form. For those who don't know, a music festival is this large area featuring multiple stages where you can see any number of musical acts and DJs, with stalls that sell food, drinks, snacks, and other goods. They're usually really expensive but ironically mostly only young people go to them.

Yesterday the weather was wonderful and sunny but breezy. After a leisurely morning of sitting in the back garden with the laptop, finding the perfect hotel for our long weekend in London next month, we walked over to the grounds of IMMA (Irish Museum of Modern Art) to the Forbidden Fruit Festival. We arrived sort of on the late side, but managed to catch Wild Beasts. You know that saying, "Hell is other people?" Well, at first I thought, "what on earth possessed me to come to this thing?" because, well, I guess I just generally do not enjoy crowds. The lines for alcoholic beverages were hundreds of people deep, so it didn't seem worth the effort. So we watched the band while drunk people tottered all around us -- and it wasn't even suppertime yet! But somehow I think your mind/expectations adjust and you just get used to it. Wild Beasts weren't that great live (though I do like their music), but after they were done we found a couple of friends and headed over to get some felafel. I think that improved my mood, and we headed over to a couple of the tents, where there was dance music playing. I took a little video of it:

Next up on the big stage was Yo La Tengo. I've always really liked their music but only had a couple of their albums. Mark had seen them once before and didn't like them so we had low expectations. Luckily, the show was entertaining and enjoyable! Here's a crappy photo I took with my crappy camera:

The crowd was considerably different from the Wild Beasts crowd: older folks in their 30s, more conservatively dressed, overwhelmingly male. It was kind of funny!

We checked out the other tents again, and then made it back to the main stage for Flaming Lips. I saw them once before on Lansdowne Street in a somewhat small venue, back in 2002 or so. This was a whole other experience. Here's a little video I took right at the start of the show, to give you an idea:

The show was pretty cool, with confetti and large balloons being shot into the crowd.

As show went on, the sun set, and the show became a bit more spectacular.

As the encore finished, we took off, beating most of the sizable crowd stumbling out of there! But before the show ended, I took a short video of their last song, one of my favorites (unfortunately used for an advertisement, but let's not think about that):

We walked back having enjoyed ourselves, and rewarded ourselves with a couple of pints on the way home!

2011-05-30T05:13:00.000-07:00

So clearly I have a problem updating lately! Don't worry, dear readers. I have been up to lots of fun and exciting things! But I have not been up to a lot of blogging, unfortunately! So I have devised a small plan that will hopefully ensure that I update at least a fair amount more: shorter posts! I know this may seem as a cop-out, but sometimes these blog entries take me such a long time that I procrastinate, and then I put it off so long it doesn't happen!

Still, I'm going to try to do a small re-cap of what I've been up to over the past couple of months (besides working!). Let's see...

Dublin Feminist Walking Tour in March. I was honoured to be asked to design the guide pamphlet to this year's DFWT. The tour was interesting, of course a little depressing, but a lot of fun. You can hear the audio of the tour and see photos by clicking here.

photo by Andrew Flood.

Alternative Miss Ireland! It was a little birthday present to myself, and I have to say I enjoyed it thoroughly! I splurged and got us decent seats, so no nosebleeds for us! While I will admit that it wasn't quite up to the quality of 2009's show, it was a really good time. I took a couple of short movies, but of course I have to apologize for the quality (one thing I haven't gotten around to in the past two months is getting a new camera!):
Will St. Leger covers "Don't you want me baby" I stopped filming only seconds before a small man dressed as Satan ran out from underneath this huge ball gown:

The winner performing "Love is a Battlefield."

The winner was a true performer:

photo by Peter Fingleton

And finally, a little clip of a Julie Mandrews act. I think Julie had the best staging of the night:

We had some really nice weather in April. I had a nice time hanging out at Farmleigh in the Phoenix Park for the Experience Japan festival. The line was a bit too long for sushi, but they had drummers and harpists as well as people walking around in all sorts of Japanese dress.

We took the opportunity to hang out with some Donkeys, too.

Here's our friends Winty and Laura enjoying the gardens:

A greenhouse:

The topiaries in the formal garden:

We went to Kilkenny for Easter Weekend. I will have to post Mark's photos that he took with his film camera at a later date. Kilkenny is a cute little town! Though I will say that there were a lot of "hen parties" (gaggles of women celebrating upcoming nuptials, aka bachelorette parties) there that weekend! And I don't know if it was just the holiday weekend, or if Kilkenny is like that every weekend, but there was some serious partying going on, let me tell you. I felt like I was at Mardi Gras! We went with Mark's parents and Uncle Billy, and the five of us had a very pleasant time indeed. And I even got to take advantage of the hotel pool, jacuzzi, and sauna, so it was an added bonus. Stay tuned for photos (at some point!).

Big news for my workplace, Rediscover Fashion. We had a big fashion show at the Guinness Storehouse! It was covered on television, radio, and in most of the newspapers in Ireland. The sold-out show was hosted by Brendan Courtney, a presenter from an Irish fashion show called "Off the Rails." There was a lot of stress (and one sleepless night on my part) leading up to the event, which included a pop-up shop and reception, but the show was brilliant and we sold quite a bit of our collection already! Click here for photos of the event. Here I am, walking down the runway with the designer, Carrie-Ann (front) and the rest of the team:

I worked on several of the outfits, so it was a blast to see my handiwork come down the runway. I look forward to someday seeing my own designs on the stage, but for how it's fun to learn a heck of a lot about construction. I have excellent teachers at Rediscover Fashion, for sure. Here's my favorite look that I sewed (on the right, the dress and bolero jacket):

As part of the Mindfield festival, we went to see a discussion on Maeve Brennan and Alice Mulligan.

"Chaired by the novelist Anthony Glavin, and featuring the critic and fiction writer, Dr Angela Bourke, and the recently appointed Trinity College Dublin/National Library of Ireland Cultural Coordinator, Dr Catherine Morris, Rediscovered Women explores how, in each generation, certain women writers can be written out of the narrative of Irish writing. Their conversation explores the lives of two fascinating, radical Irish women writers – who, for different reasons, were forgotten, and are only now being rediscovered." I thoroughly enjoyed the conversation, and immediately went to the bookstore and bought a collection of short stories by Maeve Brennan.

But there other cool things afoot as part of Mindfield in Merrion Square that day, including this massively cool puppets, which I just couldn't get enough of!

What else? Picnic in the Park with my comrades from RAG:

For our anniversary, Mark surprised me with tickets to see the band Explosions in the Sky at Vicar Street. I wasn't sure how I'd like seeing an instrumental band, but the experience was quite moving, and I recommend their live show to anyone. Click here for photos of the show (not taken by me). The show far exceeded my expectations, and I was really glad we went.

Last week our friends William and Eilis had a Wickerman-themed party, and it was a really fun time. It was a costume party (they call it "fancy dress" here) and some people really went all out! Here are some of William's photos of the festivities:

But for a real idea, you have to CLICK HERE for video of us dancing around the May pole.

Well this post has taken me over two hours, and my backside is sore! I know I've left out a bunch of cool stuff, like a documentary about Dublin architecture and a panel discussion about the hunger strikes. Maybe I'll post about those later. For now, I'm going to try to update more regularly, if not with as much detail.

2011-03-08T12:55:00.000-08:00

Last year at this time, I was in the US and disappointed to have to miss the 2010 Alternative Miss Ireland Pageant, which happened to fall on my birthday. This year, it's happening on the eve of my birthday, and I treated myself to tickets to the show. And I even splurged on good seats!

If you're in Dublin (or will be next week), you really should go to this show. First off, it's a guaranteed GOOD TIME. And secondly, proceeds go to Irish HIV/AIDS organizations, so it's for a good cause. But more than that, it's worth every penny! You will laugh your budunkis off.

Watch this entertaining promo, and then book your tickets! See you there!

Spring is here!

2011-02-27T05:58:00.000-08:00

So whatever with you Boston people complaining about your cold and your snow. It's friggin' spring here, and Dublin has had a few really nice days. By spring, I mean, no hat weather, so don't get too excited, it's still jacket weather. But not heavy parka weather. Spring weather! Yesterday I spent a few hours in our back garden, clearing dead growth and rearranging the space to look a little snazzier. Now there's lots of room to grow flowers, some bulbs sprouting, and fiddle heads nearly popping.

On Thursday, my friend Aoife and I took a lovely walk in the Phoenix Park. Despite my many outings to the park, I had never been to the visitor's centre, which has a cute little restaurant. The restaurant was closed, but I will definitely return to sample their fare.

There was also this castle looking building with labyrinthian hedges. The sun was fixing to set, which made our shadows long, so I couldn't resist taking this little photo to commemorate our warm weather walk!

Visitors!

2011-02-27T05:46:00.000-08:00

Very, very occasionally, someone we know from the US will come to Dublin. It's usually only for a couple of days, but it's always fun. Last week, my friends Rutherford and Dimitry were in Ireland for their friend's birthday up in Donegal. Now, they could have headed straight from Donegal to their next European destination (namely, Amsterdam), but I was honored when they told me they'd be taking a bus down to Dublin for a few days! I hadn't spent time with Rutherford or Dimitry for about 12 years so it was exciting to see them again! They wined and dined us, and by the time they left town I felt like a pretty pretty princess.

Unfortunately, their first night in town coincided with my mother-in-law's 81st birthday, so I had familial obligations elsewhere (more on that later). And then the next day, I had to work, which I absolutely could not get out of, so Mark and I met up with them at their hotel after I got out of work. The Clarence is supposedly owned by U2, so naturally I thought it would be as crappy as U2's music. However I was pleasantly surprised that the Octagon Bar (hotel bar) was extremely cozy. (In fact, our friends were quite impressed with their hotel experience there, and recommend it!) They also presented me with a fabulous gift from the US -- a bag full of boxes of Mac & Cheese!!! I nearly ditched them on the spot to go home and make it (ok, not really, but it was exciting).

Then we moved on to Yamamori Noodles on Georges Street, since Juice was closed. It turned out to be a great choice because they had something for both the meat eaters and us veg people. Rutherford and Dimitry live in New York, so I was afraid that their standards would be so high that anywhere in Dublin would be a disappointment, but they seemed happy enough. I enjoyed my bento box thoroughly, though I did learn that I'm not crazy about kimchee. Then we ventured over to The George for a drink. Since it was Monday night, we practically had the place to ourselves. Here's a photo of me and Rutherford underneath Ellen and Freddie:

Ok so here's an embarrassing admission. We walked our friends back to their hotel, and walked home, where I couldn't help but make a box of mac and cheese! Holy moly. I was in heaven. Like being transported back to my childhood!

The next day, I met up with Rutherford and Dimitry in late morning, and we headed over to the National Museum for a gander at the bog men. I bring everyone to this exhibit, and I never tire of it. Here's Rutherford and I pondering one of the bog men:

On the way, we made a stop at the Kilkenny Design Centre, where I have walked by a bunch of times but never really gone into for a proper look. I actually liked some of the things in there, I'm not going to lie! The Orla Kiely homewares were a particular favorite. Mark met up with us at the museum, and though it threatened to rain, we took a stroll through Merrion Square, which wasn't too exciting, but it was nice to be outside and chatting away. Then we couldn't resist bringing them to the smallest pub in town, the Dawson Lounge. I have to admit, it's adorable in there, though I'd never want to go when there's more than ten people inside! The bar man kindly offered to take our photo:

Mark was called away to his university, so we said good-bye to him and the three of us went to The Farm Restaurant for a bit of lunch, which was delicious. I really like that place. I had these crispy beet patties that I can't really describe, Rutherford had a chicken pie, and Dimitry had a hamburger. We left feeling "fat, dumb, and happy," as my father used to say.

Our last stop was into Brown Thomas, a sort of Saks-esque department store on Grafton Street. I don't normally go in there because it's too depressing and reminds me of how broke I am. But sometimes I do go in to do "market research" (aka drool over designer clothes and inspect how the construction). However this visit was a hoot for me because my companions were actual shoppers who intended to make purchases. Therefore I got to live vicariously through them and follow them around the store as if I, too, were an actual shopper who intended to make purchases. We didn't stray into the apparel sections, but I loved sniffing fragrances downstairs and prodding pillows upstairs. But the highlight of the experience were these one brand of candles. I know, candles aren't usually the most exciting things. But these candles weren't like other candles. These were Cire Trudon candles, a French company making candles since the 17th century. I am not joking when I tell you that I nearly cried when smelling these candles. (It's actually worth clicking the link and reading about the history of the company.) Here's a crappy cell phone pic of one of the candles:

At first, I lifted the glass dome and smelled the candle, but Rutherford, who is an expert at all things fragrance-related, sniffed the dome itself, which was way more fragrant! You're probably wondering what was so special about these frickin candles. Well, aside from the merchandising, it was obviously the scents. The "Bougies Trudon" (perfumed candles) are historic, unusual scents (for a candle) that seem to press a button to the emotional memory: "Odeur de Lune" (smell of the moon), mossy stone, hot and crusty bread, burning bush, to name but a few. I could spend half the day on their website. Anyhoo - after that cool experience, I dropped the boys off at their hotel, and returned home for a couple hours. After dinner, Mark and I met up one last time in our neck of the woods at our local favorite, L. Mulligan Grocer. We had a couple of rounds, and then it was time to say good-bye.

We were sad to see Rutherford and Dimitry go, but happy to have been reunited and caught up on each other's lives. They were so gracious and generous to us while they were here that I felt as though we were the guests and they the hosts. One day I hope our fortunes take a turn for the better so we can return the favor. For now we'll bask in that warm glow of friendship and feel the joy of being on the receiving end of kindness.

2011-02-19T03:18:00.000-08:00

So if you're in Dublin tonight and you want some thing cool to do before you go out for realsies, come to The Exchange at 7pm for the launch party of the second volume of a cool Irish literary journal called Never Never and Elsewhere, which features non-fiction essays from lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer, and trans writers. This volume is called "Memoirs of Youth," and it includes an essay by YOURS TRULY, which I'll be reading from tonight! All proceeds from the book go to BeLonG To, an organization that supports young LGBQT people in Ireland.

I'm really honoured and excited to have a piece published in this journal, and I'm nervous and excited to read in front of a live audience this evening! Then, we celebrate!

You can purchase the new volume of Never Never and Elsewhere online by clicking HERE

2011-02-16T14:58:00.000-08:00

Last Wednesday, when I returned home from my half-day at work, Mark wanted to go to the Irish Museum of Modern Art (IMMA) because The Moderns exhibit was ending in a few days. Ok, to be honest, at that moment I was not into it. I kind of wanted to loaf around the house for the rest of the afternoon. But then I said to myself, "Self, go to the museum and get outta the house!" So, that's what I did.

I really enjoyed the exhibit, and I'm glad I caught it before it closed. I especially liked Mainie Jellett's portraits,

Eileen Gray's furniture and architecture,

and John Millington Synge's photography.

Walking home, we decided that museum wandering is thirsty work, so we stopped at a pub on Parkgate Street called Nancy Hands. We ordered Paulaners, which was exciting because not many pubs sell it on draught. The only other people in the pub at that early hour were two American tourists from Colorado. We had a nice chat with them, though we probably would have been ever so slightly happier talking amongst ourselves about the art we'd just seen, but we left feeling lighter on our feet and happy to share our Irish know-how with our fellow Americans (though there was one touchy moment where it seemed that we didn't have the same politics and I had to veer away from that particular topic).

We figured that on the way home we'd stop by Lilliput Stores to pick up some special ingredients for a nice dinner. But on the way there we noticed an art opening next door at The Joinery. More art! And complimentary wine! The artist, Colm Rooney, has created these fantastically tiny but magical paintings.

So, after having a good gander at the paintings, we splurged next door on some pizza dough, cheese, and balsamic vinegar and then went home to cook some delicious pizza.

I can't help but think it was a nearly perfect day.

2011-02-16T14:15:00.000-08:00

Whoo boy it's harder to keep up with the blog these days now that I am a workin' girl!

But I've still been up to all kinds of stuff, as usual, of course! For all interested parties, the "job" (otherwise known as on-the-job-training) is going really well. I have already learned so much, and it hasn't even been a month yet. It really is a dream come true. The only thing I don't like about my work is the bike ride there! It's a half hour ride, 70% of which is uphill. When I leave in the morning, I'm frozen. But by the time I get to work, I'm all sweaty and gross. Of course the way home is comparatively easy, and I can't complain too much because traveling by bicycle is free and gives me an hour of free exercise three times a week. I've had a few bumps in the road, so to speak, in the form of a flat tire and a screwed up wheel, but I now have contingency plans in place, so hopefully I'll get to work on time no matter what happens.

Anyhoo - this post is about something else -- the great Katherine Lynch! I bought tickets to The Hack of Ya" tour so long ago that I didn't realize it had become sold out! You'd never know that the Vicar Street theatre was so large inside, and while I thought I chose good seats, if I ever go there again, I'd definitely go for the balcony or the front tables instead.

The comedian opening the show was an Australian guy who's clearly been living in Ireland for some time, but for the life of me I can't figure out what the heck his name was. He was really funny though!

Katherine played several characters, including singing Bernie Walsh (my least favorite) and Sheila Chic (my most favorite). The jokes were raunchy and highly regional (if I hadn't been living here for two years, I wouldn't have understood a good percentage of the jokes), but the crowd was extremely enthusiastic and we had some hearty laughs. Here are some crappy photos I took with my phone:

Before the audience had filled in.

During the show.

At the final sketch.

My only complaint about Vicar Street is how freaking expensive the drinks are. I mean, it's great that you can enjoy a drink while you see the show, but zoinks! Next time we'll front load elsewhere and brink a flask.

Shockingly, there were only a handful of jokes that made me cringe a bit, but otherwise we had a fantastic time, and if you get the chance to see Katherine Lynch live, I highly recommend it.

New Blog!

2011-02-01T11:53:00.000-08:00

No, I'm definitely not giving up this blog!

But I have started a new blog, another project entirely. Letters to Sal is a sort of history project, if you will, which uses letters as the jumping off point:

"Salvatore George Coraccio (1930-2010) was in the US Navy from 1948 to 1952. A few days before he passed away, a bundle of letters surfaced that had been sent to him during that time. This blog is about those letters and what they reveal about Sal as a young man in the post-WWII/Korean War era.

The letters also tell a story about the women in his life, for the words are theirs. Through their letters we see what life was like for a young person living in the Boston area sixty years ago."

Believe me when I say there is some high drama in these letters. I intend to try to contextualize the characters, events, and places mentioned in them, revealing not only the stories of my father and his friends but also life the Boston area during that time. My ultimate goal would be to find out more about the people in the letters, and it would be a dream come true to discover the responses my father wrote to these letters. So if you love to read old letters or have an interest in New England history, or if you just like a mystery, please subscribe to Letters to Sal.

2011-01-12T08:12:00.000-08:00

Now that it's 100% actually for real happening, I can boast poast about the best thing to happen to me in over two years: (drum roll please).....

I got a job!

Yes, the employment gods decided to smile down on me finally, just when I'd almost given up! And the most exciting part is...(drum roll please).....

It's a job I really really wanted and am incredibly excited for!

I'll be assisting the designer at the The Rediscovery Centre in Ballymun. "The project seeks to raise the profile of recycled, reconstructed and repurposed clothing." They make clothing out of donated items and textiles, put on classes, have their own store, and I'm sure even more that that. I'll find out when I start on Monday!

The job is only 19.5 hours a week, which is absolutely perfect for me, so I can work on my novel and other writing projects in my off time. The position is through FAS's Community Employment scheme, so despite the part time hours, we are still receiving nearly the same amount as we were getting through social welfare (5% less). I also don't mind at all that it's all the way up in Ballymun (4 miles away) because it will be a nice healthy round trip cycle, and on the days that I can't cycle I can do some reading on the bus. I can't take the bus every day though because it would cost 6.50euro per day, round trip. I definitely need to get some good rain pants now though, that's for sure.

So it finally happened. I followed my father's advice to "keep hustlin'" and it paid off. I have a fantastic feeling about this new development in my life. It's what I hoped for when I decided, at age 32, to go back to school for fashion design. And furthermore, the fact that it's a non-profit that is all about reducing textile waste is the cherry on top!

2011-01-10T04:40:00.000-08:00

I took another fantastic walk through the Phoenix Park a couple of days ago. There's nothing like walking a few feet from over 50 grazing deer. I tried to take a photo of them, but it was too dark! However I did take a few photos.
The sun setting:

You'd never know from these photos that this is a city park, would you?

These bumps of hay looked like they were little ents being born (that's a Lord of the Rings reference, for those wondering):

The sky was doing it's cool sky thing:

City lights off in the distance, backgrounded by the Dublin mountains:

The old Magazine fort against the darkening sky. It looks haunted!

It was the perfect evening for a walk, even though I did find myself at the magazine fort after dark, realizing I should be hurrying back to the main road!

2011-01-09T06:25:00.000-08:00

Hey! Another catch-up post!

Here's a strange shop I happened upon a few weeks ago on Berkely Street. This shop used to sell First Communion and Baptism outfits. Clearly they fell on hard times and had to change their inventory...but not their signage!

I'm not sure how clearly you can see it, but those are army outfits.

2011-01-09T05:22:00.000-08:00

Today I was cleaning out the photos on my cell phone. I figured I'd post a few that I never got around to posting before.

First off, what I wouldn't do for some Kraft macaroni and cheese. I mean the kind in the box. This is Ireland's version of mac and cheese. Um, ew!

Sometimes you see things in the store and you wonder, what on earth were they thinking when they named this product? And this is was one of those times.

I've been sick for ages! First I had just a mild cold, and then when that was over, I got hit with what appears to be a sinus infection. Every time I think I've gotten it beat, it's like, "Yo, here's a new shipment of snots for ya!" But as happy as I usually am to hermit myself indoors, yesterday afternoon I decided to take myself out for a walk in the park. It was duskish. I walked over to the back of the Dublin Zoo, where you can get a really good look at the seals. One was hanging out on a slab, sunbathing (cloud bathing?), and another two were playing in the water. I tell ya it's really time I got a new camera. My old one takes such bad photos and is so huge that I barely ever bring it anywhere. But my camera takes even worse photos. Anyhoo that won't prevent me from posting this one of the seals:

As I walked through the park's main drag, I noticed the old fashioned lamps and realized that I have never walked through the park at night. I bet it's pretty cool! Even at dusk it gave a nice view of the lights from south Dublin and the hills. I really, really love living so close to the park...
Yes, those are mountains, not clouds.

2011-01-09T04:23:00.000-08:00

Happy (belated) New Year!

New Year's Eve at Seomra Spraoi was a good time. I was due to DJ from 9 to 11, so I put together a real quirky set, thinking that no one would be up for dancing quite at that hour. Not that the music wasn't danceable! I'm actually going to share my set list because I had such a good time putting it together. Some of the segue ways were pretty funny:
Essaywhuman?!!!??! by the Roots
Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying by Belle and Sebastian
Sweet Leaf by Black Sabbath
Cat Scratch Fever covered by Fudge Tunnel
New Year's Eve by the Knife
Second Hand News by Fleetwood Mac
Voodoo by Ganglians
C is the Heavenly Option by Heavenly
Iko Iko by the Dixie Cups
I Found that Essence Rare by Gang of Four
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel
Uncontrollable Urge by Devo
New York New York by Nina Hagen
Gronlandic Edit by Of Montreal
Magic by ELO (from the Xanadu soundtrack)
I Don't Mind if You Forget Me by Morrissey
Firework by Kay Perry
Katt Witt 700 Watts by Eero Johannes
Super Disco Breakin' by Beastie Boys
Liar by Dragonette
Let It Whip by Dazz Band
Too Drunk to Fuck covered by Evan Johns and His H-Bombs
Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran
Music Is My Hot Hot Sex by Cansei De Ser Sexy
Birthday Cake by Cibo Matto
Imma Be by Black Eyed Peas
Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC
Alex Chilton by The Replacements
Downtown by Petula Clark
Life with the Lions by Billy Bragg
Sugar Assault Me Now by Pop Lefi
Fantastic Voyage (remake) by Coolio
Mr. Blobby song by Mr. Blobby
U Got the Look by Prince and Sheena Easton
Evil That Men Do by Queen Latifah
A Funny Thing (Jeffrey Jerusalem remix) by Penguin Prison
Dancing Machine by Jackson Five
Clean Up Woman by Betty Wright
I'm the Biz Markie by Biz Markie
Blowin' Bubbles by Call & Response
Vitamin C by Can
If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out by Cat Stevens
at midnight I played the theme song to 2001, which was poorly timed (it didn't crescendo until after midnight). I stole this idea from my friend Dan, who did the same thing on 2001 NYE.
Policy of Truth by Depeche Mode
Happy New Year by ABBA

then things started to get dicey because I had run out of music (my music is on an external Hard Drive so when I DJ I usually only bring the music I plan on playing). But the next DJ had bagged out at the last minute. Things got a little hairy. I played some Ride (Vapour Trail, of course), I started basically DJing with youtube, playing people's requests (Strangely, Chuck Berry and another Morrissey song, which I sneakily played a cover version of). But not everyone was nice about it. Also, it was amazing to me how many people were like, "Yeah, can you play such and such song? So, when are you going to play it, exactly? You know what you should do? You should stop this song that's going now, and just play my song right now." One guy in particular didn't like the pop music I was playing. He said, "Hey! You don't know your audience. I mean, we're an alternative crowd." I wanted to laugh in his face because honestly, has anyone even used the word "alternative" since 1996? I played his "alternative" request, The Passenger by Iggy Pop (and seriously, if you want to get "alternative" I wouldn't consider Iggy Pop, who regularly stars in car insurance advertisements). Then his friend came up to me and was like, "Can I just play a mix off the internet?" I declined and then turned to Mark, pointing to her, saying "Can you believe these assholes?" By this time I'd been DJing for nearly 4 hours. After putting on some Brazilian Girls and some hiphop, someone gave me a "soul" mix CD, which I put on and went to use the bathroom. I was going to call it a night, but seeing as my computer was being used for the music anyways, and I didn't want to leave it unsupervised (all I needed was for someone to spill a beer on it), I got to thinking. When I got back downstairs, only like three people were dancing to the soul music. I thought, you know what? Screw those people who think they're too good for pop music! So I got back to the computer and said, "I'll show them!" I played "Let it Bump" by Missy Elliot, and suddenly the dance floor started to fill up. So I followed that up with "Push it" by Salt 'n Peppa. People were diggin' it, and I was laughing my ass off. I moved next to "Check the Rhime" by Tribe Called Quest, "Pump up the Jam" by Technotronic, "Everybody Dance Now" by C&C Music Factory, "Good Vibrations" by Markie Mark and the funky bunch, "Can't Touch this" by MC Hammer, "Ice Ice Baby" by Vanilla Ice, "No Scrubs" by TLC, etc. People really were having fun and didn't seem to care if it wasn't "alternative" in any way, shape or form.

Finally, I was rescued by a very nice couple who took over my computer and did an incredible job playing cool songs (they actually did play a fantastic mix of music). I got to dance a little, relax, and talk to people. Then the party was over and I packed up my stuff and we biked home. All in all, as New Year's Eves go, it was very good! (I usually don't enjoy New Years, for whatever reason). I won't say I didn't shed a few tears when I got home, though. 2010 may have been one of the most difficult years of my life, but it's not easy to usher in a new year that I know will be spent without my father. Still, Mark wiped my tears away, we made a little late-night snack, and went to bed feeling positive about the new year to come.

If photos of the party surface, I'll have to post them later!

2010-12-31T03:13:00.000-08:00

And now a word about the word YANK. People here and in the UK use this word to describe Americans. Personally, I find this term mildly offensive. But people use it constantly here! So let me break it down for you. First of all, if you're Irish, then compare "yank" to the term "mick." It's just...not nice.

The offensiveness of this term probably has its origins in the fact that people in the southern US states call us northerners "yankees" or "yanks," and trust me, it's not with affection. Now, some Americans might refer to themselves as yanks, but most of us would not.

This is my public service announcement to anyone considering using the term yank to an actual yank: Reconsider it. Is it really so hard to say "American"?

2010-12-27T12:52:00.000-08:00

Christmas is over! Yay!

Sorry, but I am not a big fan of Christmas, per se. I like giving presents, and I like getting presents, but every year after Christmas, I think, Thank god that's over. And that feeling is compounded here in Ireland where they also celebrate St. Stephen's day. So, all in all there was a lot of imbibing: First, on Wednesday, we had a dinner with friends at our favorite gastro-pub. Then, on Thursday we unfortunately had to attend the funeral of Mark's aunt the day after that. Funerals are, of course, followed by a get together at the local pub. Once we got back to the north side, and it being Thursday, we were obliged to go to the local pub (I skipped out on that, since I was battling a cold). Friday (Christmas eve), we wrapped presents and laid low at home. Then Saturday we headed over to Uncle Billy's in the morning with two gigantic Ikea bags full of presents. Mark went ahead of me to put the turkey in the oven, then I followed and we cooked the gravy, cranberry sauce, and brussels sprouts. We ate and drank all day long, played cards, watched all the Christmas episodes of the soap operas, pulled our Christmas crackers, and went home tired but happy. I think we overwhelmed them with the presents. I took some crappy photos with my phone, and they look a whole lot like last year's pictures, except Billy has new wallpaper (that we put up, and now neither of us ever wants to see wallpaper again.)

Normally this is where it ends, but see then at twelve thirty the next day we went back to the local pub, where half the neighborhood goes and gets their drink on for the aforementioned Stephen's Day. Actually, I was delayed, so I didn't get there until two something. Luckily, they close early. I took a snap: I never thought I would say this, but I was actually really sick of drinking alcohol! So I was happy to have a couple nights off. But now it's party season again as we gear up for New Year's Eve.

Speaking of New Year's, I'll be doing a DJ set at Seomra Spraoi for their New Year's party, so I'm pretty excited. Haven't decided what I'll play yet!

2010-12-24T07:52:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine asked me what Christmas in Ireland is like. This is my second Christmas here, and while I can't speak for Christmas in Ireland, per se, I would like to point out some key differences in the Irish Christmas experience.

First of all, they have these things called "Christmas crackers." Contrary to the name, Christmas crackers aren't crackers that you eat. They look like this:
and two people pull on each end until it "cracks," and breaks like a wishbone. Inside the tube are various items, depending on where you've bought the cracker (I hear Marks & Spencers have the best ones). There's a little paper crown, a joke, and some little trinket. I like to tell people I've never gotten a Christmas cracker just to see the pitying looks on their faces.

Also, there's "Christmas cake," which is kind of like fruit cake but with a lot more booze in it, and I think it's generally round and often has icing.

What you cannot find: Egg Nog! I have not seen egg nog in the store. (Not that I can drink it.) I'm sure you can find it somewhere at those stores who cater to us ex-pats, and pay a million dollars for it, or you can make your own, but I am not dedicated enough for that jazz. Still, it's weird.

What I'm really missing, and I mean really missing (and have been since the fall) is apple cider. Now, for people not from New England, I'm not talking about the alcoholic fizzy beverage you get at your local pub. I'm talking about the non-alcoholic, non-carbonated, unfiltered, unsweetened apple beverage that you can mull into pure holiday perfection. There is nothing on earth like mulled cider! If you think, oh, how different can it be from apple juice, you have no idea.

What else? Kids go around Christmas caroling...for money. Some people think of it as industrious but I just think of it as extortion.

And as I mentioned last year, you don't get gift boxes with clothing. You are expected to wrap soft items in gift wrap or with a gift bag. Apparently, it's more fun that way. I think it's bogus and it will never feel ok, but this year I gave in. I just didn't have the box inventory!

It appears that the common meal is a turkey AND a ham, which is meat-tastic. Mark and I are headed over in the morning to Uncle Billy's house with a BOATLOAD of presents (seriously, this will be hands down the most presents these three elderly people have ever received for Christmas in their entire lives. basically they gave us money for Christmas and we spent all of it on gifts for them, like fools! ) and will cook the dinner. I've downloaded hours and hours of Christmas music, so I will be sure to play the Anne Murray Christmas album and the John Denver Christmas album (my mom's favorite) and think of my family back home. We got meat-free meat roasts for ourselves, but sakes alive I will miss Tofurkey. Nothing beats fake turkey like Tofurkey, in my humble opinion.

The presents are all wrapped and I can't wait to see everyone's happy faces when they open their gifts. So, all in all, Christmas is the same here in Ireland. Lots of effort, headaches, rushing around, then all you can do is hope it was all worth it. Happy Christmas!

2010-12-15T08:00:00.000-08:00

I don't like to make sweeping generalizations. But last night it was hard not to, as I swore and muttered to myself while biking to the IFI. Mark and I had not been on our bikes for two minutes when we turned the corner and came upon two boys, aged ten or eleven, swinging a PUPPY (it looked only a few weeks old) from it's leash. When I say swinging, I mean, swinging it around, in the air, by it's leash, and then dangling it, above the ground. This puppy didn't even look like it should be separated from its mother, let alone put on a lead in freezing cold weather. It was honestly not much smaller than my hand, and it looked terrified. Actually, it looked traumatized. It didn't make a sound, and just hung there, hopelessly.

I stopped my bike and asked the kids what the hell they were doing. They looked scared for a second because I think they thought from our lights that we were bike cops. Once they realized that we were just regular people, they just continued to hang the puppy from the leash. I told them that someone ought to do that to them to see how they liked it, and one of them replied that he would like it -- he thought it would be fun.

So here's my sweeping generalization. Sometimes it feels like the children in this country are wild animals. Boys, roaming the streets, doing whatever the hell they feel like. And you can't say anything to them, especially in your own neighborhood, where they can terrorize you, or else you're going to wish you hadn't. They throw snowballs into people's faces. They call you names. They look into your letterbox and try to spy on you in your own house. They set things on fire. They try to play chicken with you when you're cycling. I could go on and on. It fucking enrages me. When I was a child, I wouldn't have dreamed of acting that way towards strangers. But so many of the kids here have no fear, no fear at all, of adults or strangers. I just don't get it. I really don't. Back in the US, I only had an issue with one teenage kid, and he was clearly mentally ill.

And they travel in packs as well, for extra intimidation. It's not that I'm walking around, being actively scared of the children and teenagers in my neighborhood, but at the same time, I realize that they are in total control, and cannot be reasoned with. I've lived in crappy neighborhoods all over Boston and I've never experienced anything like it. Even in Brooklyn I didn't see kids acting this way. It's annoying. Most days it's just "one of them things" but yesterday, when I watched helplessly as an animal was being tortured, I just really wanted to leave it all behind me.

2010-12-11T12:38:00.000-08:00

Today Mark and I went to a discussion at the Irish Film Institute (IFI), a panel of artists, film producers, and movie makers. They were speaking in the context of a new film, The Pipe, which is about the fight to keep Shell from installing a raw gas pipeline in Rossport, County Mayo. This fight doesn't get proper media coverage, and I think that if people knew what was going on here, there would be outrage all over the world towards Shell. You can read about the movie on their website. Here's the trailer for the film:

Honestly, if you are in the Dublin area and/or have a chance to see this movie, I urge you to go see it!

The talk itself was an interesting discussion about the role art can play in activism. I can't really sum it up, but let's just say that considering how tired I was, the fact that I stayed awake was a testament to how good it was, I guess!

2010-12-08T13:21:00.000-08:00

I've been working on this very VERY long post for ages. This happened in mid-October...

Speaking of Mary Harney and Healthcare...I have been meaning to share our recent experiences with seeking medical attention for my mother-in-law last month. It's incidents like these that remind me that Ireland is not where I will be growing old. As many friends as I've made, and for all the positive things that make my life enjoyable here, I know that I will be going back to the US for my winter years. And there's pretty much one major reason for that: the Healthcare system here is absolutely terrifying, especially if you are old, disabled, or alone.

Joyce is 80 years old. She was last in the hospital while Mark and I were away. She hadn't been well since before Christmas, but has a real reluctance to go to the doctor because the waiting time is between two to six hours. If you have an appointment, the doctor will likely not even walk into the building until two hours after your scheduled time. And then he'll see the six or seven patients ahead of you, not to mention make and receive telephone calls and take queries from the secretaries during appointments. When Mark and I first moved to Dublin, we signed up for this practice, not knowing where else to go. After each having two very bad experiences, we switched. When we suggested that his parents do the same, they responded that they'd been going there for over 40 years, and sure, they wouldn't want to make anyone feel bad by switching. So their answer to this problem is to simply go to the doctor as seldom as possible, no matter what kind of agony they are in.

In July, Joyce had been admitted to the Mater Hospital for fluid around her heart. She was in a hallway, waiting for three days for a room. At the time, I didn't think much of this, although it was disturbing, but my mental picture was of a patient in an American-style hospital, on a proper bed, and while I thought jesus, that's horrible, I didn't linger on it too long in my mind.

When she was discharged, Joyce was given a prescription for a water tablet, to be taken daily, to keep her fluid down. However no one seems to have explained to her the consequences of not taking this pill. Since going to the doctor meant a two to six hour wait, she wasn't likely to go for a follow-up appointment. I mean, logistically, if you're on a pill that makes you want to urinate all the time, are you really going to go to a place where you'll have to sit in a waiting room for several hours? No. You get frustrated, and not understanding why you're on this medication in the first place, you stop taking it. Or at least, she did.

So we noticed she wasn't well -- she seemed to have a cold, and a cough, and was not herself at all. But there's a fine line when you're caring for the elderly between taking control of them and letting them have some autonomy. We respected her wish not to see the doctor. But when we found out she was coughing up blood, Mark quickly went into action. We called the doctor, and they promised to make a house call within two hours. So far, so good. We called over to Joyce, where she complained that she had been sweating through her bedclothes during the night, and was still coughing up the blood. She said she was going to call the doctor in the evening, though we couldn't figure out why she wanted to wait. About an hour before the doctor was due, we casually let her know that we'd already set the plan in motion, and the doctor was on her way. We figured that she would examine Joyce, give her an anti-biotic, some cough syrup, and we could all sleep better that night.

The doctor sailed in, asked a couple of questions, listened to Joyce's lungs, made a phone call, then informed us that since she takes Warfarin (a blood thinner), and she was coughing up blood, she'd have to go to the A&E (Emergency Room). She asked if we wanted her to order an ambulance. We said no. But this was a big mistake, we were to learn later -- a big mistake that we will never make again.

Not wanting her to be too anxious, we assured Joyce that she'd be in and out of the hospital -- no need to pack a bag! And we called a taxi, giving her only a half hour to get some things together. She was very nervous about going, but we tried to remain upbeat.

The taxi dropped us off at the hospital at about quarter past three in the afternoon. We checked in, and had a seat in the crowded waiting room, which was filled with wooden chairs, all facing a small television perched on the wall. It played Sky news. For those who don't know, Sky news is possibly the worst news channel ever invented. It picks out the same five crappy news stories and repeats them over, and over, and over. The big story that day was about Wayne Rooney, this hotshot soccer player, who was threatening to quit. Stupidly, we didn't bring books or ipods or anything that might distract us. And even if we had, we would have felt bad using them while Joyce quietly suffered beside us. Within the first two hours, we were called into a little room, where a nurse took Joyce's vitals and asked some questions about why she was referred to the Emergency Room (A&E). He examined her, and then it was back out into the main waiting room. So far so good, we thought.

Behind us, sat a blind man, accompanied by a woman. You couldn't guess what was wrong with him -- he sat quietly in his seat, occasionally making his way to the rest room. Sometimes he would remark on how long he'd been waiting, but by that time, we were all in the same boat, so we all commiserated. At one point, a middle aged man came in with his very frail father. It choked me up a little to see someone so vulnerable in such a place. But luckily he was taken in right away.

As daylight waned and darkness descended on Dublin, the crowd in the A&E changed considerably. The zombies started to come out. Sure, there was your usual: car accident victims, a woman who looked like she was going to have a heart attack, etc. Then there was the dude who looked like he'd been in a bar brawl, and the guy who had pissed his track pants, who kept wandering around the waiting room, trying to get into other parts of the hospital. He kept grabbing at his tongue with his fingers. A guy walked in wearing a nice pinstriped suit, carrying a Dunnes Stores bag. I figured that he was there to bring provisions for a patient. So I was quite surprised when he sat down in the waiting room and began a sing-along with a drunk guy in a wheelchair. I managed to use my cell phone to record their rendition of "Leaving on a Jet Plane:" The bar brawl guy was NOT happy with them, and I thought he was going to lose it, but he managed to keep it together, more or less.

Another man came in, still with the plastic bracelet from his visit the previous day. He was trying to get admitted. Of course, I don't know what his story was but he was shouting, so the whole place knew why he was there, and it was heartbreaking: he said he'd been there every day for the past three days, apparently, but he didn't remember because he has dementia. He has dementia because, he shouted, he has "full blown AIDS." He also shouted that they could call the cops, he would be quite happy to go to Mount Joy (the prison across the street from the hospital), as he'd spent the last 30 years there and at least he'd have a roof over his head. The guy needed help, and it was difficult to see someone so sick begging for treatment. I'm not sure what happened in the end, if he was admitted or not. He was so confused, but at least knew why he was confused, and was able to try to advocate for himself, but it felt so hopeless. As he shouted in the waiting room, you couldn't help but to envisage the trajectory of this man's life.

Poor Joyce took it all in stride, even though she must have been in agony sitting in those chairs, sick as she was. It was more than TEN HOURS before she was called into the interior waiting area. When you walked through the door, it was filled with people in trolleys (hospital beds are called trolleys here) and chairs. Joyce was brought into an examining area, where she waited on an examining table for the rest of the night and into the next day. On a table. That she was too small and frail to hop on and off of (she is less than five feet tall). At one point, she set up a bed for herself on the floor, but she was ordered to get off the floor and back onto the table, but seeing as she couldn't get onto it, she sat in a chair. At some point, someone gave her a pillow, but she has such severe osteoporosis that the pillow was really no use to her. After nearly 24 hours, she was moved to a proper hospital bed, within the same waiting area. But still the bed was too high, so mostly she sat in the chair. They gave her an x-ray and determined that she had a bad case of pneumonia. But there was no bed available in the hospital. Our poor blind friend was across the way, in a trolly, waiting to be treated as well.

The real kicker was this: Joyce was standing next to her trolly, with her back to the curtain, brushing her teeth at the sink, and someone made off with her handbag. She was literally four feet away, and they nabbed it. Luckily, it had almost nothing in it but socks, underwear, and her bus pass. Still, the idea that someone would steal from a sick old lady made us all feel a bit angry and depressed. But finally, after two and a half days, she was admitted to a short term ward. This was essentially a large room with about seven or eight beds in it, and two bathrooms to share among them. Since Joyce was on a heavy dose of diuretics, this was a big problem. I won't go into the details. But in this room, women and men of all ages and circumstances were being treated. One guy across from her was vomiting and having diarrhea all night long. And I don't mean in the bathroom. A couple of nights later, an old woman with dementia thought Joyce was her daughter, and kept hovering over her bed, trying to take her shoes, and shouting at her. Basically, it was the worst conditions possible to try and recover from pneumonia in. We could see Joyce getting discouraged, wondering when she could go home. However the visiting hours were only between 2 - 4 and 6 - 8, so we couldn't hang around to make her feel better. We brought her magazines and treats, but I'm not sure how well it helped to pass the time.

Mark deserves best son of the year award for hassling the doctors and managing her care. He worked tirelessly with the doctors and nurses to make sure they knew all of his mother's conditions, and that they treated all of them. He also did an amazing job explaining it all to his parents in a way they could understand (to say they have a mistrust of medicine is an understatement). All in all, Joyce was in the hospital for *twelve* days.

When she came home, we had a bit of a surprise for her. While she was in the hospital, we had gone out and purchased (well, his dad paid) a washer/dryer unit and had it installed in their kitchen. If you can believe it, they've been hand washing their laundry for 80 years....with NO HOT WATER. They boil water in the kettle. Insanity! So we knocked out a cabinet, then went to IKEA and bought a new one to put on the other side, installed that (three trips to IKEA because they kept giving me the wrong drawer), and then cleaned the place up a bit. I'm not sure they're using it, but at least it's there if they choose to.

So October entailed a lot of running around. But it reminded us both of why we're here. Honestly I'm not sure Joyce would have made such a good recovery if we had not intervened. And it was just nice to be useful and to contribute to our family's quality of life. You know, the stuff life is all about, I suppose.

However, the experience also opened my eyes to how healthcare really works in this country. It doesn't. At times it felt as though we were in a developing country. The whole system was chaotic and, to be frank, unsafe. It made me wonder why hospitals aren't being constantly sued for malpractice here. But that's a question for another day. We were just really happy to have Joyce home, safe and sound.

2010-12-08T01:49:00.000-08:00

I've been on a crafty bender for the past few days. Here's the latest project, the toilet paper roll wall art project from Design Sponge. I think it cost me 3.99 for a tube of sap green paint, and 1.60 for the glue, both of which were only half used. The wall it's on is a bit mold-prone (it's a front room, and believe it or not, our house is not insulated in any fashion), so I didn't want to put anything there that we are emotionally attached to, in case it got moldy. I really like the way it looks, though next time I'll paint the tp rolls before I glue them together!

I also made a paper wreath from Design Sponge. I had no idea where to get the green masking paper they used, and spray painting seemed too complicated in this weather (no basement to work in, after all!), so I went to a stationery store (Easons) and bought green paper in two shades as well as a sheet of silver gift wrap. It came out a little more stiff looking than I'd have liked -- if I did it again, I might distress the paper -- but all in all, it looks cute and can be used year after year. Not a bad deal for a cost of less than five euro!

2010-12-06T07:09:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas decorating time! Last year, we didn't really decorate so much, mostly because we'd only been living in our apartment for a couple of days. Everything was a complete mess! This year things are much more relaxed. But we don't have a lot of money to go out and spend on silly things like decorations! Uncle Billy gave us some Santa votive holders and a little snowman for our mantle, and then I made some little stockings from some old pyjamas I had laying around the house. So the festive vibe is starting to get underway!

Here's a crappy photo I took with my phone:

2010-12-04T04:58:00.000-08:00

The snow is here for a while, and it's funny to see how a town that isn't used to snow manages to cope. It's fantastic to walk around town and see things like this:

Unfortunately, city kids are city kids. Which means that you're likely to be hit in the face with a snowball at any moment, when you least expect it. Our poor friend Damo got hit in the mouth with a rock-stuffed snowball, which is pretty infuriating. But you can't really react because those kids travel in packs!

People also have no idea how to drive in these conditions, so you hear a lot of spinning out cars of people trying to simply get their cars onto the street. Hopefully they'll figure it out before the snow melts. We're going sledding again later, and I'll be sure to bring the camera this time!

2010-12-02T16:39:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving turned out to be a very pleasant day! We ate fake turkey, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, apple pie, brussels sprouts, mashed potatoes, gravy, and I even made pork loin for the meat eaters! We lit a fire and ate until we couldn't eat anymore, then we headed to the pub. Then we had leftovers for a few days, which was very tasty.

I don't have a hell of a lot of time to post, but I wanted to celebrate this:

For those of you that don't know, NaNoWriMo is short for National Novel Writing Month. In the month of November, you write your butt off and if you make it to fifty thousand words before Midnight on December first, you are a WINNER! There's really no prize, per se, except the satisfaction that you wrote a 50k word, 175 page novel in one month. I took on the challenge and miraculously managed to make it to my goal. I say miraculously because I wrote 20k of the 50k in the last 4 days. But I learned a LOT about writing, how I work, and now I have a really, really crappy first draft. And I'm not saying that to be modest -- it's really bad. But like any first draft, it has great potential! So hopefully between now and death I'll be able to revise it into something that doesn't make me cringe when I read it.

What else has been going on? Well, of course Ireland's economy is almost completely flushed down the toilet, and we've been taking to the streets. However most recently, we were joined by 50,000 to 100,000 other people who also took to the streets. Here I am, waiting to march, in about six layers (it was cold):

I gotta mention this lady because she had one of my favorite signs. Apparently I'm not the only one who HATES Pat Kenny:

There were so many people, it was incredible. People of all shapes and sizes and interests. I've never been on a protest of that size before, and I wonder if it did any good. But there will be more, I'm sure. There are lots of images from the day, but here's a pretty good flickr set that someone has up.

2010-11-24T16:50:00.000-08:00

The clock just struck midnight, which means that it's Thanksgiving, officially. My sisters and I have been feeling anxious about this day because it's our first Thanksgiving holiday since our father died. Like most families, we have happy memories of being together on this holiday, eating lots and lots of food, watching the Macy's parade on TV, and feeling, in general, and if only for that day, the contentment that only a loving family can bring you. Self-satisfaction, maybe even so much so that it's a little boring. A non-event that, even on such a day when you're supposed to give thanks, you forget to really commemorate it, forget to tell everyone close to you that you would be lost without them, that you are, actually and truly thankful, because you forget that there might be a time when you won't be able to. That time and place will all diverge in such a way to prevent you from having these inconsequential days that seem so obvious, it's more about the food and the ritual than it is about the sentiment. But time and place have put me on this plane of existence, floating in a world where my family is not, and now I'm standing at a sort of precipice, staring down at all the 36 Thanksgivings that came before this one and wondering how I will manage my 37th when so much has changed.

I've been thinking lately about a Thanksgiving I spent with my father at my apartment in Boston. We didn't have turkey; we had a meat fondue. We did not have pumpkin pie; we ate coconut macaroons. The wonderful thing about my father was that he was never afraid to do things differently. He hated the way old people tend to get caught in ritual, and was always up for an adventure, be it culinary or otherwise. He hated, most of all, to feel old, which was good, because we loved having an adventurous father willing to try new things, and who was not afraid to let go of old traditions in lieu of something unexpected.

This week, I went to the funeral of a friend's mother. The ceremony was a loving tribute, delivered by the most sincere and affable priests I think I've ever witnessed (and I've seen my share of priests). Personally, I am atheist, but as a formerly devout Catholic, mass soothes me in a certain kind of way, another cue to memories of family and comfort. When the priest recited the first sentence of Confiteor – “I confess to Almighty God, and you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do” – I suddenly thought back to the hundreds of times I have said that prayer and it never produced any kind of feeling in me. But today, on Thanksgiving, I think about “what I have done, and what I have failed to do” and this nagging worry eats at me. Did my father know how thankful we all were? Did he know, I mean really know, how endlessly he was loved? At the time, our comfortable complacency seemed like the best thing in the entire world. Maybe it's possible that he enjoyed the quiet happiness we experienced; he didn't need big expressions of grand emotions. Maybe it's possible that he did know. That possibility keeps me going, because I honestly don't know if I could live if I thought otherwise.

So, following in my father's footsteps, I will not be frightened of setting a new tradition, of celebrating in a different way than ever before. I will cook large amounts of food; I will eat with my new family in my new country. And I will not regret those lazy, comfortable Thanksgivings in another time and place. Perhaps today will not be the most relaxing day I've ever had, but I hope to feel and show the same quiet love and affection for my family that I have always felt, and always will. Because, despite it all, I am still blessed, and there is still so much to be thankful for.

2010-11-15T08:08:00.000-08:00

Good Day!

I've been working on this ultra-long post for ages, and I swear I WILL post it, but for now I'm going to do something easy. I never get blog accolades or nods or links of any kind in internet land (my blog is basically me writing over the sound of crickets. No one comments, hardly anyone subscribes, oh woah is me!). But Kim at Pass the Potatoes tagged me in an entry, and while I also usually shy away from internet memes, I figure what the hell.

Here are the rules:
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Paste these rules on your blog post.
3. Respond to the following prompts (in bold).
4. Add a prompt of your own and answer it.
5. Tag a few other bloggers at the bottom of the post.
6. Leave "Tagged You" notices on their blog/Facebook.
7. Let the person who tagged you know when you've written the post.

1) The best investment you ever made:
My macbook. I was going to say "my education" but the ROI on that remains to be seen.

2) If you could’ve written any book, directed any movie, and composed any song, which three would you pick:
Book: I've been sitting here for three minutes, weighing the options. I'm going to have to say "Notes from Underground" even though it's somewhere between a long short story and a novella.
Movie: A Room with a View. I can't help it. Young Julian Sands.
Song: Don't Be Shy by Cat Stevens

Don't be shy just let your feelings roll on by
Don't wear fear or nobody will know you're there
Just lift your head, and let your feelings out instead
And don't be shy, just let your feeling roll on by on by

You know love is better than a song
Love is where all of us belong
So don't be shy just let your feelings roll on by
Don't wear fear or nobody will know you're there
You're there

Don't be shy just let your feelings roll on by
Don't wear fear or nobody will know you're there
Just lift your head, and let your feelings out instead
And don't be shy, just let your feeling roll on by
On by, on by, on by, on by

3) Weirdest quirk:
Mark says, "If you took away your quirks, you'd have nothing left." So I'll say that I stir my coffee 30 times between spooning in the sugar and pouring in the soy milk, 15 times one way, 15 times the other way.

4) One wish immediately granted:
To have my father alive again.

5) Most expensive hobby:
Home organization/decorating. I'm always striving to make my home as nice as I can make it, with everything having its proper place. Ikea is my bff. I was going to say marrying into poverty, but that isn't nice!

6) An inexhaustible gift-card at which store:
Design Within Reach.

7) In another lifetime, you’d be:
A revered fiction and memoir author.

8) The most famous/interesting member of your family tree:
My family has had a LOT of interesting characters. Unfortunately, usually not for the right reasons. So I'll say my father, who invented crystal used in spaceship windows.

9) What would you say to your teenage self?
Don't rely on other people to make you feel good about yourself. Stop watching so much TV, stop procrastinating, and learn geography. Also, when you cheat, you are only cheating yourself!

10) What surprises you most about your life today?
I'm happy. After spending so many miserable years wondering if I'd ever crawl my way out of depression, I never thought I'd figure out what true happiness is. It's been a few years now, and I still can't believe how great things are, even when there's no money, I miss my family, the world is going to hell in a handbasket, and I've lost people I loved, I am still, deep down and fundamentally happy. The surprise reminds me to appreciate it.

My addition:
11) What way do most people find your blog?
Believe it or not, most people get to my blog by searching google images for pictures of dwarves.

I now tag My lovely sister, Charlene, whose blog you should check out, Rachel at Balanced Crafts, and I can't come up with a good third, so if you're actually reading this, tag yourself!

2010-11-02T09:06:00.000-07:00

We don't generally read the Herald, but Mark and I happened to be in a waiting room for a long, long time, and someone left a copy, so we took a gander. One article in particular caught our eye: Threat to RTE millions over anti-FF claims. Ok, so for my non-Irish readers, FF stands for Fianna Fáil (usually pronounced Feena Fall unless you want to get fancy and Irish, then it's sort of indescribable), which is Ireland's Republican party, which lords over Irish politics like a big dome blocking out the sun. Except for a few years in the 90s, Fianna Fail has been dominating elections since 1987. Here's the party leader, Brian Cowen:

Even the look on his face says, "Maybe you shoulda gotten someone else to do this job."

RTE, for my non-Irish readers, is Ireland's National Television and Radio Station, kinda like the BBC only with pretty crappy and pedestrian programming. It's also run by the government, essentially. As such, the government makes anyone with a television in Ireland to pay a "TV licensing fee," or else go to jail. But that's a rant for another day.

Now here's the thing. Fianna Fail is up in arms because they say that RTE is trying to make them look bad. According to the article, FF TD Noel Treacy said, "As far as I am concerned RTE is a left-wing organisation that has not committed itself to promoting policies laid down by the Government or parliament."

So politicians are complaining because a media outlet is not spewing governmental propaganda. Seriously? Have they never heard of freedom of the press? I don't get it. And of course the irony is that I'm pretty sure the consensus was that RTE did almost nothing BUT promote the Irish government. Hell, they ARE the government! What. the. FF.

2010-11-01T14:48:00.000-07:00

Can we talk about Mary Harney for a minute? I'm really torn about this:

So Mary Harney is Ireland's Minister for Health and Children. Of course, it's a nation-wide joke that our Minister for Health looks about as healthy as Jabba the Hut. Now, as a feminist, I have a natural inclination to want to support women in politics. But politicians, well, they're politicians. As far as I can tell, Mary Harney seems to be one part robot and one part Orc. I mean, just look at her face. It's stoney and heartless. And that's pretty much how she rolls. The proposed cuts on the Health Service Executive (HSE), which is how I have a medical card -- the only way I have access to any health care at all -- are between 600 million and 1 billion euro. (For American readers, 600 mil is like 834 million dollars.)

Basically what's happening here in Ireland, as far as I can see, is that in trying to make fiscal ends meet, the government is trying to skimp on services from the bottom (the poor, the elderly, the disabled, the mentally ill, public sector workers) instead of demanding that the country's wealthy (and I mean wealthy, not middle class) pay more in taxes, or... any taxes. Mary Harney is essentially a demon right now as hospitals either close or are over-crowded with not enough staff.

So on one hand I think YEAH! I love the sight of Mary Harney, hands covered with the (symbolic) blood of people who will die from not receiving health services as a result of these cuts. But on the other hand, I'm just sad and discouraged. It's like eating that delicious chocolate eclair -- it feels good, but is it ultimately good for us? Will Mary Harney, or anyone else for that matter, suddenly come around because she was attacked with red paint? From today's interviews on the radio and online, it only seems to have made her feel all the more that it's ok to discount her critics. And I think god, how degrading it all is.

2010-11-01T13:23:00.000-07:00

Halloween is a little bit of a different animal here in my neck of the woods. In our last apartment, we lived in an apartment building, so obviously no kids came around trick or treating. Also, our old neighborhood was in a place called Drumcondra, which, even though it's on the north side, is relatively posh. Our new neighborhood, Stoneybatter, while technically "up and coming," is surrounded by "flats," ie what in America we'd call Tenement housing, but is really housing given to the poor that has since become dilapidated and a bit "rough and ready" as they say here.

Because of all the kids roaming around our 'hood, and the fact that there are many houses per street and the streets are tiny, we figured that we'd get a ton of trick or treaters this year. In fact, I went out and bought FOUR bags of candy (luckily Mars bars, which Mark can't eat and I don't like so much). As Halloween approached, you could hear more and more "bangers" (ie crappy fireworks), and you would often see kids of all ages dragging random pieces of wood.

Here in the grittier parts of Dublin, bonfires are a great Halloween tradition. Mark has many fond memories of hanging out with a 2-litre bottle of cider, watching the ole fire burn up in Cabra. Personally, Dublin bonfires terrify me because I've heard too many stories of animal abuse at them. (Trust me, don't look into this matter further; you don't want to know.) But our house is a stone's throw from a very large flats complex called O'Devaney Gardens, and there really was no escaping the bonfire. Even if we couldn't see it, we could sure smell it.

So a few days before Halloween, it starts to sound like a warzone around these parts, because the fireworks sound like guns going off. Then the bonfires on Halloween start going, and you do start to feel like you're maybe in some kind of war-torn Eastern European country. Halloween was on Sunday, which is a night we typically go to the pub with Mark's parents. I was a little apprehensive about leaving the house, to be honest. But we got on our bikes and ventured out.

But as luck would have it, I got a tire puncture about 30 yards from home, just as we were setting out, forcing us to walk back to the house, ditch our bikes, and walk to the pub. But this wasn't a bad thing, because I grabbed my camera on the way out and we took a little detour to see the bonfire at O'Devaney. Now, keep in mind, we were still a pretty long distance away. But I took a little video. Look at the building next to it for a greater understanding of how tall this bonfire was. I think it was about three stories high. If you click on this, it is much more impressive in a bigger window:

We didn't tarry too long, but we also passed by another bonfire in another flats project called Drumalee, where we bumped into a man and his young sons who had pestered him to take them to see the bonfire. But you could tell he was NOT into it. "It's like during the war in my country," he said. We didn't press him for which country he referred to, but it sure did seem a little post-apocalyptic in our part of town. As we approached Cabra, we didn't see any more bonfires, but we could sure smell them. Mark drank cider at the pub as a nod to his happy bonfire memories. It was one of those moments where the country girl in me couldn't fathom feeling safe as a child in a place like this, on my own running around the streets. But that's what city kids do, just like us country kids ran around in acres and acres of woods with no fear or went skiing off the trails among the trees. Being a kid is about taking chances, and being fearless, of facing the elements, nature, and human nature, and not knowing what you have to lose.

2010-11-01T12:36:00.000-07:00

If you read my blog on a regular basis, you know that I try to be at least a little more politically active than the average person, though admittedly I am not as committed as I'd like to be. But when time and energy permits, I try to get out there and at least be a supportive body, particularly right now with Ireland's economy in the toilet and "cuts" being promised to services for the poorest people in the country. Well, there's been a timely movement here in Dublin to highlight the inequities that exist in Ireland between the very rich and, actually, everybody else. It's called The 1% Network. The name is derived from the fact that 1% of the country owns approximately 34% of the country's wealth. That's a crazy amount! And the kicker is how many of them are "tax exiles" -- in other words, they manage not to pay any taxes to Ireland, even though they have residences here.

Here's the description of the 1% Network from their facebook page: "We have all heard of the ‘golden circle’. We all know that there is one law for the rich and another law for the rest of us.

The 1% network is a coalition of socialist groups which has come together to oppose the cutback agenda of the government and to promote a socialist alternative to the current socio-economic system. The name of the coalition was chosen to highlight the fact that just 1% of the population control in excess of 34% of the wealth of the nation. Organisations within the coalition include éirígí, Irish Socialist Network, Revolutionary Anarcha-Feminist Group, Seomra Spraoi and the Workers Solidarity Movement.

We are planning a number of events including a walking tour of the houses, secret meeting places and private banks where the 1% are to be found."

So a couple weeks back I went to the first tour. It was mostly depressing, to be honest, but it was also very educational. You can view videos of the tour on the facebook page also. It was kind of like a little bit walking tour, a little bit protest. We walked in the streets and had police along, like a protest, but it was a proper walking tour. Here are some photos I took:
This guy is a great speaker. But something (the old New Englander in me) wishes dammit man, can you not shave your beard and cut your hair so you don't look like some hippie wacko? His message is on point, I just wish he looked a little less wackadoo. But then the hippie wacko in me says, who the frig cares?

View walking down the street.

with the wind in our hair...

At this point in the tour, some yah dude holding a puppy stopped to listen. He stood there for about three to five minutes. When that stop on the tour was finished and we'd all clapped, the guy yelled out, "Why don't you people get a job?" Someone said, "We do have jobs, man." And he just kept saying, "You people need to get a job!" I made me really frustrated and angry because while many of the group were working folks, a number of us, like myself, would LOVE to have a job and can't find one. To be summarily dismissed as some kind of idiot is hard to take. I'm an educated person with work experience and plenty of willingness to work. But there just hasn't been a job that's come my way. So people heckled the guy and he walked away with laughter at his back, but I felt sad over it.

Check out this crazy statue of Queen Maeve:

Like, ok, I get the warrior thing, and the crow and the bull head or whatever, but did she HAVE to be naked with huge fake looking tits? Ugh.

Anyhoo, the Irish Times did a little writeup about the event and who happened to be featured in the photo but yours truly. I'm looking very attentive, aren't I? With the huge sunglasses, I'm all incognito.

I just missed the most recent 1% event, but I look forward to attending more of them, and I think you should too. It helps give a real look at what's going on in the mess of Irish politics and rhetoric. You may be dismayed and depressed afterwards, but at least you'll be informed.

2010-11-01T10:54:00.000-07:00

In other news, we gave Galway another shot. See, the first time I went to Galway, I had only been living in Ireland for oh, 24 hours or so. I also got an annoying cold as soon as I got off the train, and it was New Year's Eve. So I didn't get a great impression of Galway because I was jet lagged, sick, cold, and half the town was still shut down for the holidays. We only stayed for the weekend and then hightailed it outta there back to Dublin, and I wondered what all the hype about Galway was over.

So when our friend Eve graciously invited us to stay in her new place in Galway, we couldn't turn it down. And you know what? I thought it was a cute little town this time around! Having all the shops and restaurants open, the sun shining, and being healthy and alert gave me a new perspective on Galway. Plus, it's hard to be unhappy when you are so close to the ocean. We walked around town, perused some stores, walked along the shore, and went to this really funny (and admittedly touristy) pub that reminded me SO MUCH of Maine, I insisted we go there twice.

My camera doesn't take good indoor photos, so I had to swipe these off their website.

But here are some photos I took walking along the shore:

Now, the Irish are a hearty people. And swimming in cold water is just one of the common sights all around the country. Maybe it's good for the soul, who knows. But while we walked around in our scarves (ok, I was in a scarf, the others threw caution to the wind), these ladies went for a dip:

This was taken from a diving platform. I'm sure it looks much different in high tide (ie it's covered in water). But this is where people get their swim on:

I decided to take a little ten second video of the view from our little diving platform, for posterity.

2010-11-01T10:45:00.001-07:00

So much for posting more regularly. Of course I haven't stopped living, I have just stopped blogging so much about it. But I swear that things have calmed down now so I should be able to keep up! Now, I guess I'm a just gonna have to do a bit of a recap of the month...

Well, first of all, the Rag Issue 5 came back from the printer's! We are all very excited about this year's issue, and I can't wait for our launch party, to which all are invited, on November 20th. Here's the poster for it:

So please come on up to Seomra Spraoi, have a little food, be immensely entertained, dance, and then go home with a copy of The Rag#5 for your very own. It will be a ball!

The first couple of weeks of October were pretty intense, putting together the magazine, dotting our Is and crossing our Ts and making sure everything was more or less kosher. I think we have a great range of articles, two of which were written by yours truly! So look out for it, and if you can't make it to the launch party, never fear, the magazine will be in book shops around Dublin and will be available through Distros around the world. I'll keep you posted on that after the 20th!

2010-10-01T04:06:00.000-07:00

I have been a blog neglecter. Well, it's been busy times for me lately! For the past couple of months, I was doing a little mini-internship twice a week for the very talented and very nice Dublin fashion designer, Sinead Doyle. It really got me thinking about fashion and what I'd like to work on next, and she also inspired me to do more hand work like beading and embroidery. So we'll see what I come up with! I still have some nice fabrics from my trip to Florida last year. I have been staring at them longingly for over a year, so I'd like to get through my stash.

It's also RAG season again! So we're making the final push to get the magazine out. Things aren't moving as swiftly as they should be, so I foresee a few sleepless nights ahead.

I think I may have written in February about going to Dublin Community Television to do a show called "Looking Left." We were featured as a comparison to the 1970s Dublin feminist magazine "Banshee." The show has finally been released. Admittedly, I don't say a whole lot. But Clare does an amazing job, and I excel at nodding and smiling.

Looking Left - Banshee Journal of Irish Women United from DCTV on Vimeo.

The other day, I felt like making brunch. So I made a ton of food, and was lucky enough to have a few friends come over and help me eat it. It was one of those days where you feel content and loved and all those nice things. But did I take a photo of us eating the yummy food? No. I took a photo of the plate though! Now, it doesn't look very appetizing, but I assure you, it was. Here is home made corn bread, tofu scramble, corned bean hash, and home made soyrizo. Yum!

A friend of ours was in town between traveling, and he put on a little fundraiser in Seomra Spraoi for a social center in Malaysia. I was supposed to DJ, but there wasn't really enough people. So we just put my ipod playlist on the stereo and had a nice relaxed time. But then, someone asked to turn the music off because some musicians wanted to play. It was magical, and such a pleasant surprise. I took two videos. The second one is haunting and maybe even other worldly. Sometimes I get these reminders at how different Ireland is than America, in a good way. You know those moments where you think, "This would *never* happen back home!" And I feel so lucky to have these moments, particularly when I am missing friends and family back in New England.

September 24th was Culture Night, "a night of entertainment, discovery and adventure in Dublin and across 20 towns, cities and counties in Ireland. Arts and cultural organisations open their doors until late with hundreds of free events, tours, talks and performances." I cycled over to IMMA to meet some friends. I wanted to take photos, but my camera is fairly useless at night. Here's one of Clare and her friend, looking festive!

As we were not so excited by the happenings there, a group of us continued on to some other galleries on Franklin Street. And I had a celebrity sighting! Tommy O'Neill, aka Detective John Deegan from Fair City! I was pretty pleased, but I didn't go up to him or anything.

It's hard to convey just how many times you see horses in Dublin. I don't mean the kind of horses like you see in downtown Boston that have fancy carriages that will take you around the Common. I mean just kids on horses, guys in little mini-carriages going down the road by horse. It's no strange sight to see horses used as regular transportation, and they usually go down the roads like cars. But the other morning, I caught a horsedrawn hearse in traffic, and I just had to take a photo. The horses in front of the bus really creates a contrast!

Well hopefully it won't be so long before my next update!

2010-09-03T03:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we biked along to quays, then through Irishtown and Ringsend to the water. We walked through these trails, eating blackberries and dandelion leaves along the way, until we hit a beach and a long jetty that led to a light house. We walked all the way out to the lighthouse and back, and then sat on some rocks on the beach and ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Then we biked home. The weather is just too good to stay inside!
The little beach:

Mark taking photos that will kick my photos' butts

The water in the wind:

Some kind of industrial building

Light house:

View from the Light house:

2010-08-28T12:38:00.001-07:00

As I was on my futile quest to find a free writing course/workshop/group, I came upon an event that interested me, a reading put on by Some Blind Alleys, "a literary entity that supports new Irish writing through publication, readings, and events, as well as creative writing courses for aspiring and established writers." Unfortunately, their courses are profoundly out of my price range (they are reasonably priced; I am unreasonably poor), but the event was only 5 bucks in, so I figured I should check it out. Of course, I literally only had that much in my pocket, so buying a drink once I got inside was out of the question.

Earlier in the day, I received an unexpected request to DJ at that night's Seomra Spraoi gig, since the scheduled DJ backed out. I said, sure, what the hell, and then realized that it would take a certain amount of prep since my itunes files were all a mess, and not only that all my music is now on an external hard drive, so I'd have to decide on the playlist in advance and burn the songs onto a CD-R in order to bring them with me. And I'd started a sewing project as well that I wanted to finish. AND I wanted to go running. So I sewed for a bit, went for my 5k, came back, showered, then started in on my playlist. But of course that took much, much longer than I wanted it to. So I reached a point where I thought gee, maybe I shouldn't go to this reading after all. But I'd planned it in my mind for weeks, and so at the last second, I ran out the door, not bothering to change out of my scuzzy jeans and t-shirt or put any makeup on. "It's a reading, not a fashion show," I thought. So I hopped on my bike and walked in the door of the Cobalt Cafe only a few minutes late. But when I walked in, I was sort of surprised at how posh everyone looked! I mean, in my mind, I guess I just expected to find grubby people like myself, but I walked into this strange scene of women tottering around on high heeled shoes holding full glasses of red wine, dressed to the nines. My only hope is that they had after-reading plans, to be dressed like that. The men were more mixed, but also looked intimidatingly well dressed. I stood there, reminding myself, "You *do* own nice clothing at home, Angela. It's not as if you put any effort in." But as I stood there, being all grubbed out, and too broke to at least wallow my wardrobe sorrows in a glass of wine, my initial feelings of awkwardness and inadequacy turned to a strange sort of anger. I started to wonder about the gritty process of creating a piece of writing, and how opposite it was of this (apparently) glitzy world of presenting it. The only thing to do, since the event was late in starting, was to inspect everyone else in the room with slight scorn, wondering if I'd want to be the sort of person who got dressed up for a literary event. I think I am, actually. But maybe only if I were the one reading.

So there I was, standing behind the doorway, leaning against the wall like a true wall flower, looking on, wondering if I should leave and finish picking out my DJ set. But then I thought, well, that would be 5 euro wasted, so I'd better stay and at least see something. My obvious bad vibes must have been picked up by the organizer of the event, Greg, who very graciously introduced himself to me. He wanted to know how I'd found out about the event, saying, "We don't get a lot of stragglers to these events." I definitely qualified as a straggler, and I laughed at being outed for my lack of fitting in. My pride prevented me from accepting a drink (or rather the fact that I knew I couldn't buy one back), but it was nice to be reminded that I was actually out amongst fellow human beings.

Now, here's where I am going to be brutally honest, because it's my blog and I see no reason to blow smoke up anyone's ass. Carlo Gébler is a highly accomplished author, obviously, and I'm a nobody. But if he himself asked me what I thought about the piece he read last night, I would have told him that it was a very good first draft. Usually when you see writers read their own work, it goes one of two ways. Either their reading makes you fall in love with the writing, and see something in it you'd never have seen, or it makes you feel uncomfortable and put off. I actually felt that the way he read the piece did the work a disservice, and I had to look down at the floor while he read, because his mannerisms and gesticulations distracted me from listening to the words. It felt a little like when you go to a small hole in the wall comedy club, and well known comedian comes in to test out new jokes. But I'm glad I went. Sometimes it helps to realize that we're all in the same boat, and that just because I haven't been published doesn't mean I'm not talented. I have faith that I have something to say, and I can say it compellingly.

I didn't get to stay to see the other readers, since I had to rush back home and finish preparing my DJ set, then jet over to Seomra Spraoi. The rest of the night was spent playing music, dancing, being plied with wine, and chatting until the wee hours. These days, it's been very difficult navigating the ups and downs of grieving for the loss of my father, so these full days remind me that there are lovely things in life to celebrate.

2010-08-27T03:21:00.000-07:00

This week has been Heritage Week here in Ireland. Basically, all week long there are events all over the country in Tourist Offices, Libraries, Office of Public Works Sites, Heritage Centres & Historical Societies, Museums, Bus Eireann Stations, and Various Hotels, plus a bunch of other places. These events celebrate Ireland's history and educate people about the country. Actually, it's pretty awesome. So far, we've gone to three events. The first was at the Cabra Library, and a woman from the Dublin City Library and Archive on Pearse St to talk about genealogical research. Boy do they have a lot of resources I never even thought of! So it was definitely an hour well spent, particularly for Mark, whose family is from Dublin.

Yesterday we biked over to the National Museum on Kildare Street for a lecture on the Sheela Na Gigs of Ireland: "Mr Eamonn P. Kelly, Keeper of Irish Antiquities, NMI, will discuss the origins and functions of the mysterious sheela-na-gigs." The lecturer relied maybe a bit too heavily on his powerpoint presentation, so it was a bit more dry than I was expecting, but then when the audience started asking questions, his answers were a bit more off the cuff and more interesting.

Then we hopped on our bikes, and stopped for a quick bite to eat. I now have a dilemma! Remember my post a few months ago about Pablo Picante and their fantastic burritos? Well, I have to admit that Boojum gives it a run for its money. Now, the bean burrito at Boojum is like 2 euro more than the one at Pablo Picante, but it's a hair bigger. It was a really satisfying burrito though, and I am overjoyed that there are now THREE good burrito options (the third is Cafe Azteca, on Lord Edward St. which also have nice burritos) in Dublin. Hooray!

Due to a small wardrobe malfunction (note to self: don't bike around on a men's style bike with a pencil skirt), we stopped home for five minutes, then scooted back to the Cabra Library for Joe Lee's documentary film, "Bananas on the Breadboard," about the women traders of Dublin. It was a great movie! If you're into local Dublin history, I highly recommend this film, which is available from all the city Libraries. He covers a lot of ground in a short amount of time, but the women traders that are interviewed really steal the show. Tough broads with great senses of humor, for sure.

Anyhoo - I'm really looking forward to having a bit of a "me" day today -- I'm going to do some creative work, clean up my work space, go for a run, and then tonight I'm going to a literary event, followed by a gig at Seomra Spraoi, which I've just been asked to DJ (after the bands). So it'll be a late night for me, but a fun one I'm sure.

2010-08-26T01:56:00.000-07:00

This past weekend Mark, his parents, his uncle, and I went to Arklow, which is in County Wicklow. Our journey started with a taxi, which made three stops to pick us all up, and then brought us to Connolly Station. We managed to get everyone and the bags up the escalator. Of course, we were massively early, so we had some coffee in the station bar/restaurant while we waited. Traveling with three elderly is a little bit like traveling with three small children. They move slowly, they get easily confused, and they wander off. Mark's parents nearly got on the first train that pulled up, but we managed to grab them in time! The train ride was only an hour and a half, which I spent listening to my ipod and nodding off.

Being in charge of booking the hotel, I realized quickly that there aren't a whole lot of options for hotels in Arklow, and reading the online reviews, I was sort of horrified. But I chose the nicest looking one that wasn't massively expensive, the Arklow Bay hotel, mostly for the pool and jacuzzi. We hopped a cab to the hotel, and checked in. I had to show Mark's parents how to use the card key -- it was like something from Encino man. One dinner was included with our room, so after having a couple of drinks in the hotel's outdoor seating, we stayed put in the hotel and had a really very nice three course meal.

Then on Saturday, we hired a guy to take us around the outlying areas of Arklow. We passed through the town of Gorey, which reminded me of Dun Laoghaire a bit -- if I'd had any spending money whatsoever, I'd have liked to stop in Gorey. But as it happened, we drove through onto Ferns, which is in County Wexford. We stopped at St. Edan's Cathedral, and walked around the cemetery. Everyone but Billy was pretty bored with this stop, but I managed to get a couple of photos with (unfortunately) my phone. I will have to update this blog entry once Mark gets his photos developed!

We went on to Vinegar Hill, which (for those who don't know) is where the Irish rebelled against the British in 1798, but they lost miserably, sadly. It's strange to be on the spot and think of what occurred, since it's such a scenic spot.

There's sort of a fort/tower at the top:

Here's Bill and Billy, pondering Irish history:

Joyce, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air:

We drove through Enniscorthy, and then it was onto the Meeting of the Waters in Avoca.

There was a monument with song lyrics, and Billy, who has fond memories of his mother on this spot, sang the song for us:

Here, the driver went into the back of his van and pulled out five champagne glasses with strawberries and a bottle of champagne. He also had orange juice for us to make mimosas. It was lovely! We sat and enjoyed our champagne, which Joyce admitted she had never drank before. I'm not sure she was very fond of it, anyways. We stopped in a pub in Avoca and had a couple of drinks, then it was back to Arklow for us. We stopped into a favorite pub/restaurant of Billy's and who did we bump into but his second cousin and her husband! So it was a happy family reunion, and they plied us with drinks and food, and it was a happy night indeed.

On Sunday, after breakfast at the hotel, we stopped back into Arklow for some lunch and a stroll. I took a photo of this stencil graffiti:

The train ride back was like something out of a bad sitcom, but we managed to get home all in one piece. Then, on my way to the store, I came upon our neighborhood mini horse that I could never seem to get a photo of. But I was able to follow him and pretend to be using my phone and catch a snapshot of him. He's so tiny!!! Lately there seem to be a lot more horses around the neighborhood than usual. It's pretty surreal to be biking around the city and nearly crash into a horse as you turn a corner. When I try to tell people back home about the horses around here, they don't believe me! But when we were out driving around the countryside, I said, "Hey look! They have horses out in the country too!" har har har. Anyways, here's the little guy:

2010-08-18T13:35:00.001-07:00

On Sunday I had a very active day! I got up in the morning, ate my breakfast, and then I went for my customary 5k run, which truth be told was a little more difficult than usual for some reason. However, I still made decent time. Then I spent another 45 minutes or so doing my "Power 90 sculpt" DVD. Then Mark had the good idea of biking over to Dollymount, which is the beach on Bull Island, pretty much right next to where we were the day before at St. Anne's park. So we biked the 6 or so miles, then had a nice little hangout sesh on the beach for a couple of hours.
I think I've posted photos of this place before, but who doesn't want a crappy cell phone pic of it? Not you!

Ships sailed by:

Mark went swimming but I preferred to stay dry and warm. Here's a photo of his sunglasses before he lost them in the waves. Good ol' Bono!

And because you are so curious, here's the view of the beach to the right:

And since it was a pretty nice day, I decided to take a happy feet photo:

2010-08-14T14:23:00.000-07:00

Today was one of those days that, when I'm old and gray, I'll think back on and say to myself, "What a lovely time that was."

First, I got up early (ok, for me), made breakfast (two poached eggs and two pieces of toast), and then leisurely made my way over to the Phoenix Park Wellington Monument for yoga in the park. I've been wanting to go for months, but I kept forgetting to write it down. So finally this week I made the effort. Holy crap it was so fantastic! First of all, the weather was glorious. I was afraid I'd be too cold, so I layered up before I left the house, but by the time the yoga started, I was nice and toasty. The yoga class was taught by a woman named Fiona who introduced herself to me before the class. By the time it got going, I think there were about 20 people there. I was afraid that I would get a migraine (yoga sometimes does that), but lo and behold, I had a wonderful session, and after the hour was up, I felt fantastic. I took a photo of my yoga mat in front of the monument (objects in the photo are larger than they appear):

So I arrived home, ate lunch (amazing vegan quiche that my live-in chef made yesterday), showered, and then Mark and I headed out for a bike ride to St. Anne's Park, which is only about six or seven miles from our house. Mark's grandfather, the gardener, worked there. The ride there is through Fairview and Clontarf, along the water:

We walked through this meadow, and at the edge of it, there were these knotty trees that looked like ents from Lord of the Rings. I tried to take a photo, but as you know, I only had my cell phone, so of couse you can't see it at all:

Then we came along a little tree swing, so of course I swung:

Then we came upon a little pond, which wasn't very clean, but the ducks seemed happy enough with it. I decided to take a photo, but in the sunshine, it came out a little streaky. I have a sort of embarrassing theory that maybe this photo is slightly otherworldly.

We explored the woods, which had all sorts of little hobbit trails and towers in it, like this old relic:

It had a load of graffiti on it, including the text "Magic Mushrooms are a part of our celtic heritage." Here's Mark debating where we should go next:

Finally, we went to the Rose Garden and settled in for a nice little picnic (including blanket) of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, oranges, and ginger snaps, plus a half bottle of cheap wine left over from yesterday. Here's the view from our spot:

After our gourmet meal, we sat in the sunshine and chit chatted. We reclined, closed our eyes, maxed and relaxed. I took one final photo of the sky and the rose bushes:

We biked back towards home, stopping in town for some tahini, and we actually ran into a friend of ours. I love when that happens to me in Dublin because it makes me truly feel like I live here. I mean, we all know I live here, but sometimes I still feel like a tourist. Heck, I am a tourist. But I also live here. And it's nice to have local friends!

2010-08-14T06:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I FINALLY got myself over to the National Museum of Decorative Arts and History. I live about a 15 minute walk from the place and I'd never been! (Unless you count the cafe, which I visited with a sleeping infant while babysitting.)And now I'm sorry I never went before, of course. I met my friend Ariel there, even though the weather turned out to be kind of nice. Here's the view from outside the entrance:

It's in Collins Barracks, and sort of reminded me of IMMA (the modern art museum in Dublin), minus the lovely grounds.
Once you get inside the courtyard, it looks like this:

It seems desolate and you'd never guess there was a museum in the place, but once inside the building, you realize that it's actually a pretty popular destination!
We entered the building at about 3pm, two hours before closing, and we didn't get to see everything! The place is huge! It figures that the batteries in my camera died, so I took some stealthy shots with my cell phone. I'm not sure what the rules are on this sort of thing, but I think it's safe to say that these crappy cell phone shots are no substitute for the real thing. Here are some of my favorite displays/items, etc:
From the Neilli Mulcahy exhibit, which made me absolutely droooool:

Keeping in Fashion, there was another exhibit called The Way We Wore, which (as the name suggests) had some fantastic clothing as well some of the creepiest mannequins I've ever seen:

I had never heard of the architect/designer Eileen Gray, but man, now that I've seen the exhibit about her, I totally want to know more!

They had some very cool mod furnishings, all set up together in mock living spaces:

Of course the non-modern items were exquisite, like this bird harp:

It was nice to see that the museum had items from all over the world, most notably in the Albert Bender collection of Asian Art. I took a (blurry) photo of the back of a kimono that took my breath away:

Oooooh and I may have been content to spend many hours looking at all the AMAZING jewelry. Here I am, admiring some serious gems:

Unfortunately, just as we got to a really cool and interesting part of the museum, the Soldiers and Chiefs exhibit, the museum was closing and we had to leave. I managed to snap a photo of one of their many realistic looking manequins, which I admit I found amusing:

When we got outside, I missed the opportunity to check out the grassy area in front of the museum, as it had closed too, but I definitely want to get a closer look at this:

I will definitely return to the Museum of Decorative Arts and History many times, especially on a rainy day. It really was a lovely way to spend a couple of hours.

2010-08-14T01:40:00.002-07:00

Thursday evenings are one of our semi-obligatory nights at the pub (I say semi because we aren't officially obligated, and we also enjoy it) with my in-laws. Like many elderly, they are creatures of habit, so they arrive precisely at 5pm, and leave at 8pm. This Thursday, when we got home I realized that I'd received a text message that I'd won a contest I'd entered earlier in the day for free admission to the Damo Suzuki show at Crawdaddy from the very cool and aptly named online magazine Le Cool. My stupidly leaving my phone at home nearly cost us the tickets, but we managed to get the all clear and practically ran out the door so we wouldn't miss the show.

When we walked into the place, which is the Chocolate Bar on the outskirts (Crawdaddy is through an inside door), I remarked that despite it being an open space with high ceilings, here was another bar that smelled strongly of farts. We arrived during the opening band's last song, and then Damo Suzuki's band started to set up. He has a "Damo Suzuki network", which basically seems to mean that he arranges for local musicians to be his backing band in each city he plays. So the show was made up of six backing musicians -- two keyboards, drums, bass, guitar, trumpet, and other percussion instruments like tambourine and cow bell. My camera (as regular readers will know) is total crap, so I don't know why I bothered, but here is a snap I took:

It was funny, though. As the show started, I noticed a guy standing at the very front with a camera -- he was a balding guy with very close cropped hair. He didn't seem to be paying attention to anything but how he would get his next shot. Then a couple minutes later, I noticed another guy of nearly the exact same description (balding, close cropped hair, t-shirt, fancy camera). They hovered like gigantic flies over the front of the stage. But then, a third guy of the same description appeared, only shorter and with glasses, and a much bigger camera than the other two. He was more of a swarmer, and passed back and forth from stage left to stage right. I couldn't help but get distracted by them. But more or less, I found the show to be entrancing. I used the time to daydream about my life and its possibilities, and to zone out watching Damo Suzuki do what he does and sweat a profuse amount while doing it. But it was rather stuffy up at the front. We quietly slipped out during the encore, feeling satisfied at ourselves for having a nice night out that cost us zero dollars.

2010-08-11T14:32:00.000-07:00

One nice thing about today was going to my preferred fabric store here in Dublin. There's a couple of fancy places in the city centre, but I like my fabric stores a little gritty. My friend Emily and I are working on a costume for her. The inspiration:

As you can see, that's a lot of fabric, no matter how you cut it. (see what I did there? fabric? cut it?)

So we visited TWI fabric in Mountjoy Square. It's this store that you wouldn't even know was a store. You walk in, climb the stairs, and it's balls to the wall fabric.

Of course my heart quickened its pace and even though some of the fabrics have been there so long, they are musty and discolored, some of them are so wonderfully vintage and classic, that my mind went in about fifty different directions thinking about all the things I would like to make with them.

Now if I could just finish the project that's been on my dress form for the past six months. I have vowed not to buy any more fabric until I've used up my current stash (not that I could afford to buy fabric of any kind right now), and so I guess it's a lucky poverty.

My Mondays and Tuesdays are now going to be spent helping a very talented (and nice!) local fashion designer at her studio. The work so far has been fun (for me), and I know I am going to learn a ton. And it's gotten me back thinking about fashion, which feels really good. So going back to school isn't going to happen for the moment, but maybe I can still "make it work."

I had one vague job lead a couple of weeks ago, and thought I might actually be going to work teaching English Composition at a local college. But as it turns out, they're not hiring at the moment. So I did get my hopes up, only to get my spirits down, but now I'm sort of glad it didn't work out. While I do miss teaching sometimes, I don't want to do it full time again. Hopefully a door will open for me sometime, somewhere. Until then, I just gotta keep on keepin' on.

2010-08-02T09:01:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we looked at the weather forecast and it seemed sort of like maaayyyybeeee it might not be a horrible day out, so we said what the hell and decided to bike from Stoneybatter to Howth, which is just over 10 miles (16km). Once you get to Fairview, it's a straight shot along the water, and quite pleasant. Arrows indicate our home and destination points.

Well, the ride in was very pleasant indeed (aside from nearly being run over by a car less than a mile into the ride). When we arrived we realized that there was a little food market, and so we eagerly locked up our bikes and strolled over. The baked goods looked divine, and there was falafel, crepes, fruit, olives to die for...but before we could decide, it started to POUR like holy hell on top of our heads. Not having an umbrella, we scrambled to put on our rain jackets, but it was coming down so hard, I felt like all my happiness was being washed away. So I said screw it and decided to throw plastic to the wind and treat us to an indoor lunch where we could dry off and wait for the rain to stop. (A nice lunch, you see, was not in the budget.) But then we couldn't find the place we wanted to go to (the place with the most amazing veggie burgers!), and then I started to really get grumpy. Everything was either too meaty or too expensive. Then, all of a sudden, the rain eased up a little. So we agreed that we weren't SO hungry after all, and we could handle the walk up Howth Head without lunch. But the lovely food items we'd encountered on our arrival were too far to go back to, and I thought of them longingly as we stopped into a Spar to buy some nuts to eat if we got hungry on our walk. Stupid rain! It took us a while to climb up the hill (there is a bus that goes right to the top, but who needs buses when you have perfectly functioning legs), but when we got there, ignoring the large groups of teenagers and families, the views were beautiful!

Realizing that we didn't take the most scenic way up, we took it on the way back down:

Just before we got back to sea level, guess what happened? It started to rain like hell again! Rain jackets back on, moping toward our bikes, dreading the ride home, somehow the place with the veggie burgers JUMPED out at us, and since they were the best veggie burgers I'd ever had in my life, we decided what the hell, you only live once, let's wait out this rain, and we stopped for a bite to eat. And we were not disappointed. It felt like fate that we didn't get all full up on burgers and fries before climbing Howth Head. That would have been gross! But after the walk, it was fantastic to have a little feast.

When we got out, it wasn't raining, and in fact the sun was shining. Then of course about ten minutes into our ride home, guess what happened? It started to pour like holy heck again! We just went with it, and biked home, suffering. But also not suffering because we had a nice day.

And I have to mention, just to prove that if God exists, he hates me, that it was fantastic to get home, shower, change into something dry, and chill out. But then it was time for our Sunday night at the pub with Mark's family, so we headed out. It was (you guessed it) raining, so we decided to walk and use our umbrella. But then, when we got outside, it seemed to magically stop! Yay! So we went back inside, and grabbed our bikes. Then, about halfway there, the sky opened up, and yep, we got absolutely soaked. My pants never did dry until I took them off to go to bed. Ah well. That's life in a wet country.

2010-07-30T08:49:00.000-07:00

Well, after a relaxing couple of weeks in the US, full of family, food, sun, swimming, did I mention SUN? and in general being quite lackadaisical, I'm back in Dublin once again. And I won't be leaving Dublin for some time, thanks to our embarrassingly low bank account. And to make me super excited about being broke and back in Dublin, the weather has decided to rain. So that's cool. But I will hopefully be updating more often now that I'm in one place for a while!

2010-07-02T15:39:00.001-07:00

I wanted to post another photo of our little patio in all its bloom. What a pleasant place to be!

2010-07-02T15:37:00.000-07:00

Horses come and go through my neighborhood nearly as much as people with bicycles. But not a heck of a lot of mini ponies! I didn't want to be obvious about taking this photo, so unfortunately by the time I took it with my crap camera, it was far away. But look how tiny it is!

2010-07-02T15:23:00.000-07:00

This is sort of a nothing post, but I forgot to post about the Street Performers World Championships. It happened a couple of weeks ago, and well, we didn't go during the formal festivities, but we did go on Friday and managed to catch a couple of performers. It was ok. But I did have some fantastic felafel! And there were these neato inflatable sculptures. Maybe we'll go properly next year.

2010-06-10T16:37:00.000-07:00

The other day, Mark and I were waiting for the bus into town and I spied a kid walking across the street. He looked about 12 years old, maybe 13, dressed in your typical track suit with canvas sneakers. A typical kid from our neighborhood (though don't get me started about the track suit thing). Then I noticed that he was walking down the street with his left hand shoved down the front of his pants. "Why is that kid walking around with his hand down his pants?" I asked, appalled. Mark informed me that walking in such a fashion is the new thing with the kids. It's, like, gangstah or something. Then I recalled that I saw another kid doing it a few days prior, but I figured that the kid must just be a moron or something. Well, he might have been, but apparently this kind of moronic behavior is catching on.

Ummm...ew. What the hell? These kids are putting their hands all over their junk, then going on their merry way, touching bus railings, door handles, retail items, and getting their little junk germs all over town. Blech! "Our society is becoming degenerate," I said forlornly. Then Mark told me I sounded like an old lady. Well, I guess I am.

2010-06-05T12:58:00.000-07:00

Today was kind of a poop sandwich for the most part, mostly because the day started out with a nice migraine accompanied by vertigo, a foul mood, and an upset stomach. Oh, the joys of chronic migraines! But once that was over, and once I was over being a baby about it, we decided to get out of the house. Even though it's actually quite pleasant in our little back patio. Our landlord has some nice flowers and ivy out there, and then Mark's uncle Billy came by with some hanging plants. He has a real green thumb. Here's Mark catching some rays:

Of course, once we decided to leave the house, it, it looked all cloudy and not the best weather for going to the beach (our original plan). So instead we decided to pay a visit to a place called Farmleigh. Farmleigh used to be owned by the Guinness family, but is now owned by the Public Works and is nicely enfolded in Phoenix Park, which regular readers will know is a five minute walk from our house.

So we set off on the bikes and headed out. Here's the cool thing, though: Mark's grandfather, Alexander Perkins, was a gardener at Farmleigh for many many years! The green thumb runs in the family! And we'd never been to this place we'd heard so much about, not even Mark! So after hearing all the family tales, I was looking forward to having a look.

When we first rode up to the house on the estate, I had to stop and take pictures of the cows. Cows always remind me of where I grew up in New Hampshire. But I'll spare you the photo because they just look like blobs in the grass. But here is the photo I took of the pretty horses:

We passed by a cute little restaurant, but we didn't stop in. However it looks rather reasonable with sandwiches running a fiver. I might stop in next time! The outdoor seating looked inviting.

Once I'd used the estate's facilities, which I was extremely thankful for, we walked around a little. There are sculptures around the grounds, like this one Mark is pondering:

Then we came upon this cool fancy pants garden aka Dutch-Style Sunken Garden. It was like something from a movie! Do you see the topiary peacocks?

Swans are a particularly Irish motif, and this one is interesting to me because of the expression on the swan's face.

And also the cute little bum bum of the cherub:

Then we walked around the walled garden, which has some of the most beautiful flowers I have honestly ever seen. I took two more photos, and then wouldn't you know? My camera battery died!

So I am really excited to go back again, because Farmleigh is less than a 15 minute bike ride from home, and they have tours. I think I may have found my new favorite spot to go. It's enchanting!

2010-05-31T05:21:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in my local library, and who would have thought that it would be so full of people! Studious people working diligently on...well, actually it's mostly teenagers so they're probably working on Leaving Cert exams or something. But they sure look like they mean serious business. There aren't that many tables that I can see, so I'm in a chair with my laptop on my lap. I am supposed to be writing, but I wanted to make a quick blog update first.

I started this blog, to be honest, mostly for my father to read. It's strange to write in it knowing that he can't read it. But it's nice to know that I have a lot of other loved ones who are reading it still, and who I now keep in my mind and my heart as I go about my life in Dublin, and then write about it here.

Anyhoo - last Friday Mark and I had a fantastic outing to a place called Dalkey. Apparently this is where the rich and famous like Bono, Lisa Stansfield, and Enya live. We took the DART (that's kind of like the commuter rail in Boston) about a half hour or so and got off on the coast. We had nice lunch of veggie burgers and soy lattes at this cute little health food store called Select Stores. I wanted to buy a lot of things there, but we took one little snack to go and headed on our way. I took a photo of these farm fresh eggs, because I was just saying to a friend in Boston that the eggs aren't refrigerated in Ireland. This seemed a little unbelievable to me, too, when I first got here, but they taste so much better that way.

We started on our way, walking to an undisclosed location. Mark told me he'd been in the area before, but I didn't know until we'd started walking that it was my Dublin guide book that had given him the idea for this walk, so therefore he didn't *really* know where we were going. We sort of ambled down a street, and came upon...Beacon Hill! No, we weren't transported back to Boston, but I took a photo of the gate for posterity.

So we walked a little more, and decided to head towards the water, even though technically we were lost. And then we came upon this little park that had a very nice view.

Clearly this is where the rich people live, and you can see their houses here:

Wouldn't you like that view?
So we walked until we saw this little entrance to an uphill path, so feeling like Alice in Wonderland, we took it. If you look at this quickly, it looks like just a rock. Then you notice that it's a neat little rocky bench:

When we got up, we thought this was a pretty cool view:

but actually that was not even as good as what was to come...(as you'll see. remember the photo above's little brown bridge.)
So we were enjoying the nice view when I spied a little cat who looked curious about us, so I called her over. She was affectionate and friendly, and reminded me of my Gypsy at home.

When we left the little perch we'd climbed, she seemed so forlorn at our parting. Here she is, watching us walk away:

We kept truckin' along, and came upon that brown bridge pictured earlier, so we crossed it because it seemed to lead to the baths. Here's the view looking back to where we came from taken on the footbridge:

Baths aren't really a big thing in the US, I don't think. But they seem to be a pretty common thing in Ireland. Basically they're like man-made tide pools on the ocean that catch the water, where you can, well, bathe. Here's the one we came upon:

It's difficult to distinguish, but here are steps that go into the water:

The weather and the atmosphere were so pleasant, that I felt the most content that I'd felt since I got back to Dublin. So I took the kind of photo I only take when I'm feeling content: a photo from my point of view at the moment:

Here I am, happily lounging in the sun like one of those walruses or seals you see in National Geographic:

We kept on walking, and as you can see the views started to seem less like Ireland and more like somewhere a LOT warmer:

Then we entered the walkway up to the obelisks. Yes, that's right! Obelisks! I think there are fairies hiding behind these trees:

When we got to the top, there was a curious pyramid of steps. Naturally, being human, we had to climb it:

Here's the view from up there:

At the obelisk, some little boys were playing warrior games, and it did seem like a pretty damn cool spot to play imaginary games, especially if you're going to pretend to be knights and wizards and stuff.

On the other side of the obelisk, there was a pretty neat view, which my little camera can't even begin to visually describe:

Then we began the descent down the hill, and stopped to eat our little snack here:

We admired all the fancy houses, and I decided which ones I'd like to buy. I probably couldn't live out there full time, but they would be great second homes, I reckon. Then we spied this curious pathway that ran between two property walls. It was so long and narrow that you couldn't see to the other side, and it looked like it could be a dead end or else haunted. But not lacking in a sense of adventure (and it pointed in roughly the direction we wanted to go, which wasn't the same direction as the road), we decided to turn down it.

And sure enough, it led us exactly in the right direction! Then we caught site of these gorgeous and gigantic trees. I tried to take a photo but it was a total failure because these trees were behind a fence (aka someone's yard) and so huge. But as we walked, and took deep breaths, we realized from the beautiful and refreshing smell that these were eucalyptus trees. Imagine have a bunch of eucalyptus trees in your yard! That's my new dream, I decided.

Then we got back on the DART in Killiney and headed back to Dublin. We met a friend at Bruxelles which was actually a pretty nice hangout! I dunno about upstairs, but downstairs they split the place up -- one side is like the "rock" side with death metalesque music playing and dark hardcore decor, and the other side is a little more "pop" with a more light atmosphere. I took a photo of a Bowie stencil done on the wall of the poppy side:

Then we met up with another friend at The Long Stone, and man was that place a trip! The inside is nuts, with all these (fake?) trees and this huge...I'm not actually even sure what you'd call it...a wall sculpture? Anyways, it was a fun time:

2010-05-27T07:38:00.001-07:00

I'm back in Dublin!

This will be a quick post, so I apologize. I've been pretty busy upon my return, and to top it off I've had a bit of a cold. Since I've returned, I've been trying to get some SPRING CLEANING done to remove all that dust and fire soot from the winter, as well as all that dirt and clutter than builds up when you aren't paying attention. It's kind of slow going, I have to admit, but the weather has been just gorgeous since I got back, so I've been able to have breakfast out in the garden every morning and go for beautiful walks in the afternoons.

On tuesday we partook in the great Irish tradition of protesting. If you haven't heard, Ireland's economy is the in the shitter. And it seems like the only ones being asked to sacrifice through "cuts" are people who need it most and have the least to give. So we went on a little march. I was a bit apprehensive, although this wasn't my first Irish protest, because I always am afraid something bad is going to happen and I'll get in trouble and get kicked out of the country of something, but I being certain that my luck isn't *that* bad, I went, and it was a rather moving experience. People from all sorts of different looking backgrounds were there, from your anarcho-punks to your working class ladies, to your academic looking types, to your regular nondescript looking people. I even saw a lady in a very nice business suit there, holding a sign. I took a couple of pictures, and then I also took a little video so you can see what it was like from my point of view, walking in the middle of the short march.

There was a decent showing, but the sad part is that there was absolutely nothing in the news about it the next day. The major media outlets here in Ireland are so tied into the government and the church that it's like a built-in sensor. What amazes me is that when you listen to the news on RTE radio in the morning, you'll hear about every dumb-ass drunk dude who crashed his car in the entire country the night before, but you won't hear about a few hundred people who were protesting the Dail and Dublin Castle the day before.

It's happening again next Tuesday, and I highly encourage anyone who wants Ireland to take care of its hospitals, schools, workers, people with special needs, etc. to come along and be a body of support.

2010-05-15T18:17:00.000-07:00

One of the things a person worries about when they move away from the country where they were born is that the people they love will fall ill or worse. When I moved to Ireland, My 78 year old father was in relatively good health. Last year, when he was sick, I was lucky enough to be able to spend six or seven weeks with him, helping him out and getting him back on his feet. Unfortunately, this year, we weren't so lucky. My father passed away on April 24. He was the most wonderful man I've ever known, and my heart is heavy with the sadness I feel from having lost him. Below is the eulogy I read today. I'm posting it as a testament to his tenacious spirit and the joy he brought to so many people's lives. In a week, my husband and I will return to Dublin, where I will go back to my regular life, although nothing will ever be the same again.

My father was a fart smeller, I mean a smart feller.

When I was a kid, Dad posed to us the difficult and profound philosophical questions, such as “Are you an ugly girl or a pretty monster?” And such apt observations as, “You look just like that guy over there. Except for the moustache...He doesn't have one.”

Anyone who knew my father for even an hour knew that he had a dry sense of humour. At the same time, my father was never loud or brash. When my brother and sisters and I were young, he had a way of making us laugh even when we were determined to be miserable. If we claimed to have a stomach ache, he would test our ailment with a simple question: “If I rip off your arm, and hit you over the head with it, would your stomach still hurt?” He had a raspy, gentle voice, which he almost never felt the need to raise in order to get a person's attention. His quiet nature made him pleasant and easy to be with, as talking was never a necessity, but if you wanted to, he could converse on just about anything. He was good company, whether it was walking the streets of Venice, strolling through a flea market, lounging on the beach, having breakfast at a greasy spoon, or just sitting on the couch watching TV.

Despite his generally laid back nature, my father had that Coraccio curiosity to understand how things work. By things, I mean both physical and metaphysical. He preferred to come out on top, but he didn't need to always win. For understanding the cause and effect of why things happen seemed to lessen the disappointment when they didn't turn out the way he wanted them to. He never expected too much out of life, and so when something did go the right way, he had a habit of remarking on it with surprise. “That was kind of cute,” he'd often say, or “How fortuitous!” His joy was usually quiet, as was his sorrow. If he could move on to the next goal, he always had something to look forward to.

If I had one of those days when it seemed like I would have been better off not leaving the house in the morning – the kind of day when everything goes wrong – I often called my dad to tell him what I'd gone through. I knew that in the process of regaling him with the day's events, we would both have a good laugh. I can't explain why or how, but I knew that if there was anything comical to discover in a mishap, my father would appreciate it. Sure, I could have been in tears while going through the experience, but re-seeing it through my father's eyes brought us both laughter. Other times, when I called my dad with the usual complaints about work, school, and romance, he often gave me the same advice: “You just gotta keep hustlin'.” This simple philosophy virtually encapsulates my father's entire life. No matter what was thrown his way, he quietly persevered. And in his 80 years, he did a heck of a lot of persevering.

We made a lot of jokes about luck. It seems like his wasn't always very good. Everything, and I mean everything he had in life was earned. He taught us that if you want to be loved, you need to show love. If you want to be appreciated, you have to appreciate others. If you want devotion, you must first be devoted. It's not a guarantee, but it's the only way you will ever have a fighting chance. So as a result, he had family and friends who loved, appreciated, and were devoted to him. And this, I think, is how he measured his own success. And it had nothing to do with luck.

My father taught us to do the things that make us happy, to love the people we want to love, without shame, unabashedly, and without reserve. He taught us to enjoy ourselves, to please ourselves first, and to revel in the joys of the moment: the simple things like a good meal, a sunny sky, a surprise card in the mail, a cold beer when you're doing yard work, a good cup of coffee in the morning, a back scratch, a phone call, or an enjoyable book. I could spend all day listing the things my dad enjoyed, because despite everything, he never took his life for granted, and I never once saw him feeling sorry for himself.

As he was coming out of lung surgery, groggy from anaesthesia, unlike most people who would ask, “How did it go?” or “How am I doing?” my father struggled to find the breath to ask me, “Where are we on the itinerary?” We had a goal, and he was hustlin' to reach it, and he never quit. He never gave up on himself, and he never gave up on any of us. So now, when the grief and loss feels like it's simply too much to bear, and I wonder how I'm going to make it through the rest of my life without him, I know exactly how. I'm going to keep hustlin'.

2010-03-12T17:28:00.000-08:00

Greetings (still) from Florida! Of course, just like last year, since I left Dublin the weather has been great there. I've been enjoying torrential rain here in Florida for two days, so I'm starting to think that the gray skies just follow me wherever I go! My life has been wrapped up in traveling back and forth to visit my Dad in the hospital, but I wanted to share a couple of amusing things I managed to see here.

People in Europe get this impression that people in America are getting shot on every corner. While it's not quite that bad, guns are featured heavily both fictionally in US TV and movies, and in reality on the news. Gun control is obviously a major problem here. Now, I'm from the Northeast, which tends to be more on the liberal side in terms of politics and social issues. Down here in Florida, well, let's just say it's just not what I'm used to. So imagine my surprise at seeing "Rifleman" magazine in the doctor's office waiting room the other day:

Another amusing thing I saw the other day will definitely be funnier to my European readers. It was a car's license plate that I noticed while waiting at a stoplight. In the US we have "vanity plates," which are license plates you can make to say anything you want. Well, check out what this one said:

Q4BJ

I'm not sure if he meant what I think he meant when he got that plate, but it sure made me laugh!

2010-03-06T06:16:00.000-08:00

Remember last summer when I visited my Dad in Florida? Well, I'm back there again. And you know what? I'm still excited for all the same things I was excited for during my last visit: warmer weather, iced coffee, Target, and of course most of all seeing my Dear Old Dad. We're hanging out, and I'm trying to stuff him with food while he tries to put up with my cooking. I don't have much that's original to say about being here (driving is still so much fun, the fake meat selection is amazing, etc), so I will just say please keep him in your thoughts and prayers. We're hoping he feels better very soon. Thanks!

2010-02-28T10:23:00.000-08:00

Friday night we went to see a friend of Mark's band upstairs at J.J. Smyth's. It was great to finally meet one of Mark's childhood friends! Dave was a very accomplished guitarist, and we got to drink Erdinger on tap, so that was an added bonus. I took a photo, but it didn't come out so great.

Yesterday we walked into town, and stopped by the Temple Bar Food Market for a snack. The mexican food stand's burritos have potatoes in them, which I think is pretty odd, so we got a couple of Tostadas, which was a nice little nibble. The people at the mexican stand are also very nice, which helps.

I have to admit that I can't really stand Temple Bar as a rule. I guess it's sort of like Fanieul Hall in Boston, I guess -- nice to walk around once in a while, but mostly annoying.

But then we headed over to the Irish Film Institute (IFI) because we had tickets to see three short films by Kenneth Anger and a question/answer session with the man himself. The program was "Invocation of my Demon Brother," "Rabbit's Moon," and "Lucifer Rising." I have to admit that I felt a little hypnotized by the first two films (read: dozed off a couple times), but I really enjoyed "Lucifer Rising," especially the costumes! During the question/answer session, I tried to take some photos, but they came out pretty crap! I need a new camera so bad it's not even funny...
Keep in mind that he is 83 years old...

He told the most amazing story, which I so wish I had captured on film. Apparently, the original star of Lucifer Rising, Bobby Beausoleil, said he was going to buy some new amps for his band, but it turned out that the big packages he bought were bricks of marijuana. Anger told him he couldn't keep it at his place (Beausoleil was underage at the time), so he broke into Anger's cutting room and stole all the footage of himself that he could find. Then Beausoleil and Charles Manson (!!!) got together and tried to blackmail Anger into paying 10,000 dollars to get the footage back. When he wouldn't pay up, they buried it in the dessert, so Anger re-made the film. Bobby later went to prison, where remarkably he kept in touch with Kenneth Anger, who said that he was much easier to stay friends with once he was in prison. haha!

I caught a couple of short videos of him answering some of the questions. This will really only be of interest to Kenneth Anger fans, I suppose:
Video 1
Video 2

Watching the films, I could immediately see how influential his work has been on other people, and, most surprisingly, I think The Mighty Boosh is totally influence by him!!

After the films, Mark went home and I met a couple of other American ex-pat ladies for dinner. I was pretty overjoyed when one of them suggested we eat at Juice. I couldn't help but order the Mushroom Wellington, and of course it was fantastic. My first thought for our after-dinner pint was to go to Anseo, but when we walked in, the music was just a little too loud, so not sure of where to go on a Saturday night, we settled on Flannery's. The place is a bit like walking into a barn, and it's quite rustic. When we sat down, there were ladies in weird outfits with feather tails passing out shots of Southern Comfort and lime on the rocks. I don't really like SoCo (too sweet), but it was free, so I said sure, and actually on the rocks with lime, it's not bad at all! But then as it got a little later, more and more people were stumbling in and the music was getting louder and louder, so we high tailed it out of there after one drink.

I said good-bye to my new friends, and then met Mark at the new Fibbers Rock Bar on Ormond Quay. Thankfully, the new Fibbers smells a whole lot better than the old one (which is still in business on Parnell St.). It wasn't too crowded, and it's close enough from our house that the walk back wasn't so unpleasant.

Today we walked over to the Hugh Lane Gallery for the Francis Bacon exhibit. We managed to tag along on a guided tour, which was very informative and made me think about the exhibit in a way I never otherwise would have. People have told me that I should really visit the Hugh Lane, but I never realized what a fantastic place it is. I will definitely go back again and often!

2010-02-26T08:46:00.000-08:00

So it's nearly my birthday, so I thought I would make a completely gratuitous post about the presents you can buy for me. Ok, so most of my readers don't actually know me, but hey don't let that stop you! I'm a poor immigrant, after all. I guess I just feel like daydreaming today!

First, this backpack. My chiropractor told me months ago that I needed to ditch my messenger bag, but I'm very picky and the selection here is crap, so I haven't gotten one. After much hemming and hawing, I've chosen this one, but of course it can't be had in all the land:

Secondly, I'd like an acoustic guitar. It'd be cool to have my own guitar here where I live, but actually I think that buying a new/used would actually be cheaper than shipping mine to me. I was thinking it could just be a tiny one, like a kids guitar even, just to strum sometimes.

Thirdly, I'd like a nice wool sweater. Something warm AND stylish. Like this or this or this or this or maybe this...the list is endless, really. Though a button-up cable knit hoodie would be pretty cool.

Fourthly, one of these foam rollers so I can roll out the muscles in my highs so my knees won't hurt so much.

Fifthly, tickets to the Alternative Miss Ireland Pageant, which as it happens, is on my birthday.

Sixthly, tickets to see Swan Lake at the new Grand Canal Theatre.

Seventhly, a food processor.

Eigthly, a slow cooker.

Ninethly, a bread maker.

Tenthly, some nice sensible boots, like these or these.

All this consumer talk has given me a headache. Go figure!

2010-02-25T07:43:00.000-08:00

Well, it seems I have another DJ gig coming up! Boy, if only these were paying gigs, but nevertheless it's always GREAT FUN to DJ at Seomra Spraoi. And it's my friend Ariel's birthday, so we will have something to celebrate. She designed the poster, which I think is just lovely:

So if you're in Dublin, you should come and get yer dance on! B.Y.O.B.

2010-02-19T08:37:00.000-08:00

Boy do I have exciting news. Ever since my arrival in Dublin, I've been on the hunt for a good burrito. Every place we tried had something funky about it -- no taste, potatoes (truly the biggest abomination to happen to the burrito. keep your spuds outta my tortilla!), huge and expensive, etc. The best burrito in town, in my opinion, was Cafe Azteca on Lord Edward Street (across from the Kinlay House).

Well, today on my way home from the Chiropractor, on the corner of Lower Baggot Street and Pembroke, I had to rub my eyes to make sure I wasn't seeing things:

It said "Pablo Picante. Californian Burrito Bar." Thank my lucky stars I happened to have a few bucks on me, an empty stomach, and enough time on my hands to wait in the line that reached the door.

As a vegetarian, I am very particular about what's in my burrito. Obviously, no meat, which means that the thing has got to be good because there's no meat to hide behind. But I don't like grilled veggies in my burrito, either. Or sour cream. Or guacamole. I always get beans, rice, salsa, and cheese. And that's it. I like to order it the same way everywhere so I can accurately measure how good a place is. Yes, I am scientific about my burritos.

When I got up to counter to order, I immediately got good-natured guff for being an American wanting to "customize" the order (rather than order one of the specific burrito packages on the board), but the guy was very funny and friendly, and my burrito only cost 5.50e. While I was waiting, I took some photos of the cool decor in this tiny takeout joint:

I ate my burrito while walking down the street (one of the many wonderful things about burritos), and even though I got refried beans instead of the black beans I wanted, I actually LOVED the beans, and the spicy salsa was exactly the perfect level of hot. All in all, it was just as good if not better than any burrito I could get back home, which is saying a lot!

When I got home, I immediately looked them up and friended them on facebook. I hope they stick around for a long time. And maybe open up a shop a little closer to Stoneybatter!

2010-02-10T06:24:00.000-08:00

Well I have no complaints about my medical card this week. Since last Sunday, I'd been pretty sick (a stomach bug that morphed into a flu/strep infection/bronchitis), and finally after two sleepless nights I couldn't take the throat pain anymore and I literally counted the minutes to when the doctor's office opened. But when I called (with a VERY hoarse voice), they said they didn't have an appointment until the next morning. I knew there was no way I could wait that long. I'd taken 800mg of ibuprofen and it had barely made a dent in the pain. So I said no thank you and hung up the phone and cried. I was so feverish and tired, I didn't know what to do! That's when Mark informed me that I should just go into the doctor's office anyways. "That's how it works!" he explained. So, considering the Emergency Room as a second option, I showered, dressed, and stumbled down the road to try my luck.

Can I just say that I love my new doctor's office? The staff isn't always overly friendly, but the doctors are fantastic. After less than an hour's wait, I was seen, given two prescriptions, and after just one dose of the antibiotic, was feeling human again. Now if I could just stop coughing, that'd be cool. But for now, I'm in bed watching episodes of the Mighty Boosh.

2010-02-06T05:17:00.001-08:00

Hey! Me again! I'm DJing again tonight at Seomra Spraoi. Hopefully people won't all leave after the bands play like the last time I DJed. So I thought I'd plug it on here in case anyone actually reads this thing.

The bands are
Attention Bebe
and
Mescalito

It's BYOB, and it's a suggested donation of 5 euro for unwaged, and 10 if you are a working person. A cheap night out for live music and fun dancy times!

Oh, and there'll be cake!

Location: Seomra Spraoi, 10 Belvidere Court, off Gardiner St. (www.seomraspraoi.org)

AND........while I'm at it I may as well tell you about the Valentine's Day gig happening next Saturday. The poster was designed by yours truly. I'm not DJing this one, but Princess 4Q is a definite crowd pleaser!

2010-02-06T04:43:00.000-08:00

On Wednesday, I went with fellow RAGster Clare to the studios of Dublin Community Television (DCTV) to film an episode of a show called "Looking Left." RAG has previously done shows for DCTV -- you can see the show about DIY publishing HERE. The show has previously dealt with publications that have come out of lefty political movements, but this was the first show that dealt with publications that mix both the political and social, but aren't the product of a political party, namely the 70s Journal "Banshee" and RAG.

In preparation for the show, I downloaded pdf scans of issues of Banshee and was amazed at so many things. First of all, in 1976, when the issues came out, contraception was not legal in Ireland. Divorce was illegal. Women were being refused service in pubs (or else they weren't allowed to drink pints; they could only drink half pints at a time). And Ireland was the only country in the UN to refuse to ratify the equal pay for equal work law. And so much more...for example, if a woman had an affair with a man who wasn't her husband, her husband could sue the other man for compensation for lost services. I am not joking -- it actually happened! Women had almost zero rights and were literally the property of their husbands. Reading Banshee was both like stepping back in time, but also many of the articles reminded me of how much still needs to change here, and how behind the times it really is. And not just in Ireland, but in most of the world. Reading about the direct actions the Irish Women United took inspired me. I think they actually made a difference in the world they were living in.

Anyhoo -- it struck me how similar the subject matter was between Banshee and RAG. We also learned that their process of creating (editing, writing, publishing) the magazine was extremely similar to ours in its non-hierarchical, collaborative nature. So naturally, when given the chance to talk to Anne Speed, one of the founders of Banshee, Clare and I were pretty pumped.

The studio is in this big warehouse kind of building. Man it was cold in there. In fact I think it was colder in the studio than it was outside. I took a picture of the building:

Inside the actual studio, it was a little warmer, but they only can have the heater on between filming because of the noise it makes. So we started off toasty, and started shivering most of the way through. "Looking Left" is a panel show, so the host, Conor McCabe, started off by giving a historical context for Banshee, but the show was really run by Louise O'Reilly from SIPTU, who did a fantastic job keeping the conversation on task. Here's a photo I took of the set after we were finished filming:

All in all, we heard some compelling stories, both before and after the filming, and we made sure to get Anne Speed to agree to be interviewed for the next issue of RAG. Then she was kind enough to give me a lift home! I felt like I was driven home by Irish feminist royalty or something, haha. I will post the episode when it's available online! I hope they edit out all the parts where I sound like an idiot.

2010-02-06T03:50:00.000-08:00

A week ago, Mark and I brought Uncle Billy and his friend Brian to see "Faith Healer," a play by Brian Friel, at The Gate Theatre. First we stopped into the Hop House on Parnell Street, which I think used to be the Shakespeare, and got a table next to the fire, which was good because I didn't wear sensible shoes and my feet were ready to fall off. It smelled strongly of food because it's a restaurant/bar, so I wouldn't go in there again for a drink, but if I wanted food and booze, I'd definitely go in again. I liked the atmosphere. Then we walked over to the Gate. Here's what it looks like:

It was our Christmas gift to both of them, and while we were buying the tickets we thought oh what the heck, and bought two for ourselves. Both Mark and Brian thought the crowd at the Gate was too pretentious (Brian called it "a place for poseurs."), but the theater itself is really nice. I didn't want to be snapping photos with so many people around, but I did get one shot of the ceiling. I guess that's a little strange, but I liked the chandelier!

I enjoyed the play well enough, but I think any play that consists entirely of monologues is always challenging for both the actors and the audience. Faith Healer consisted of four monologues from three different actors. And since it wasn't a comedy, it took some concentration. Luckily, the third act was very entertaining -- the guy stole the show, really -- and then the pieces of the puzzle start to come together towards the end, so you understand the vague bits from the beginning that had you wondering what the heck was going on. Still, I think old Uncle Billy may have fallen asleep.

I think we all enjoyed it well enough, but the next time I take a couple of old age pensioners to the theater, I'll probably make sure it's a comedy.

We had plans afterwards to go to a Haiti fundraiser at Seomra Spraoi, but first we stopped into my old favorite, the Welcome Inn for a drink. When I went into the bathroom, I noticed these new signs in the stalls, which made me laugh. Can you imagine this sign in a bar back home? haha. It's kind of horrifying in a first world way.

It says, "Please use water sparingly...If it's yellow keep it mellow; if it's brown flush it down."

2010-02-05T12:27:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago, Mark and I were walking along the quays towards town, when we passed by the art gallery Adifferentkettleoffishaltogether on Ormond Quay. Mark had heard something about it, so we stopped in for a look. There were several exhibitions inside the two-story space. Downstairs, exhibits such as "Padded Cell and Other Stories" dealt with institutionalized child abuse in Ireland. The one that had the greatest impact on me, personally, was a series of blown up reports and testimonies from a man who had been place in orphan homes and juvenile detention centers and jails for his entire life, getting sexually and physically abused every step of the way. There are statements from people whose jobs it was to take care of him, failing miserably in putting him somewhere where he'd be safe. It tracks the man from the age of seven or so all the way up to his 40s. It brought tears to my eyes.

Upstairs, the entire floor is scattered with bullet casings. There were several video installations, including Remnants of Our Past, by Farcry Productions. "Letting go of that which you most ardently desire" was essentially a documentary about a previous project where 200 people were brought in small groups to a secret location (secret until they went there) to see where hundreds of firearms were being put out of service. They were then asked not to speak to a single soul about their experience for at least three days. The house was eventually raided and the firearms discarded.

The exhibits are changing this month, and I look forward to seeing what adifferentkettleoffishaltogether has coming up next!

2010-02-02T14:57:00.000-08:00

It's like I'm going for a posting record today! But I just put the TV on for Katherine Lynch's new show, "Katherine Lynch's Single Ladies." She is my new fave. Holy crap her characters make me laugh. The only problem is that I think about 20% of her jokes probably would go right over the heads of anyone who had never lived in Ireland. But it's those jokes (when I get them) that I think are the funniest sometimes. And shockingly, it's on RTE. I know, right? A decent show on RTE.

Check her out:

2010-02-02T14:10:00.000-08:00

My friend Clare and I are taking part in a DCTV (Dublin Community Television) program, and we get to speak with some of the people behind Banshee, a feminist magazine from the late 1970s. As research, I was given some copies of the magazine to read. Holy moly it's amazing how much has changed, yet how little. For example, contraception was illegal when Banshee was started in 1976. Ireland was the only country in the UN to refuse to ratify a law that would give women equal pay. And abortion...well, we still don't have legal abortion here. But I love the fighting, unified voice of the articles. Sometimes outrage prompts great action.

2010-02-02T13:50:00.000-08:00

I won't go into the gory details, but today has been a strange day. The kind of day where you say to yourself, ok self, what the heck are you doing, and can you not make a plan to do it? I did create our new-for-2010 budget -- a fancy excel spreadsheet that essentially allocates every cent we have coming into the house for the next 14 months. Not the cheeriest task, but actually not the worst either. After doing a fair amount of daydreaming (aka looking at design blogs), and a fair amount of more daydreaming, at about 8:30pm I decided to email Grafton Academy, a fashion design school, to get an answer from them to an email I'd written way back in December regarding whether they'd give me the EU tuition rate (just over 5k euro) rather than the non-EU rate (9k euro). Much to my surprise, the phone rang a half hour later. I didn't recognize the number but I answered anyway. It was the very nice "Principal" of Grafton Academy herself, responding to my email.

We chatted for several minutes, and while I would go to her school in a heartbeat if I could pay for it, the long and the short of it is that there's pretty much zero chance I can get the EU rate without an EU passport. Well, I'm about 5 years away from an EU passport, so...

I explained my already extensive debt from previous schooling (68k for those keeping count), but alas and alack, it didn't prompt any exceptions to policy. While the tuition isn't expensive by American standards (I wish all my schooling had been that cheap!), I just can't rationalize going another 30k into debt, even if it could mean the difference between someday having a career in fashion and giving up on my dream.

These are the happiest times of my life. I don't regret moving to Ireland, and I do many, many things that make me happy here. I have family and friends, and every day brings something new and cool. But sometimes...sometimes it does feel a little like purgatory. I wonder if I'd have better luck going back into academia. Should I keep fashion as a hobby and get that elusive PhD?

2010-01-30T05:29:00.000-08:00

This is probably of little interest to anyone, but I'm posting some before and after photos of our apartment, because we worked so hard to clean the place up, and I think we did a pretty a-ok job.

The Living room: Before.
The walls were dirty white with this obnoxious blue trim. The place was also in shambles because we couldn't fully unpack due to copious amounts of crap left by the previous tenant.

The Living room: After, minus curtains.
I will probably edit this post once the new curtains are sewn (today's project), but for now, here's how it looks.

And note these lovely lions, procured from Uncle Billy's "far shed":

The Bathroom: Before.
The walls were a disgusting pink color that made me shudder every time I went in there.

The Bathroom: After.
It took two coats (three in some places), but we covered it in a nice ice blue color, with gray trim:

Once I re-grout the shower, I'll probably post those befores and afters, because I know you all care so much!

2010-01-29T09:14:00.000-08:00

We live about a four minute walk from Phoenix Park, which I've mentioned before after previous visits there. So the other day the weather was tolerable, and I felt like getting out, so I took an afternoon bike ride. Let me reiterate how gigantic this park is. It's huge! It's so big, there's a Zoo inside it! I stopped and took photos along the way.

Near the entrance closest to my house. I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing palm trees here:

Statue of Sean Heuston. Check out those massive fingers!

Obligatory park swans:

The monument as the sun was setting:

Even though it's a park, much of the land just looks like open fields you'd see in the country, like this:

But there are some cute little buildings, like this one:

I tried to take a self-portrait, but I forgot that the zoom was on, so it just ended up being my giant head. I thought it was funny, so I'm posting it:

I've also since been jogging in the Park, and I'm just really pleased to be so close to it. I know we weren't so far from the Botanic Gardens before, but it was just far enough away that we didn't go very much, and it was often crowded enough that I wouldn't see myself running in it. So I feel like we'll get more use out of Phoenix Park in our new house. It's going to be even better come spring!

2010-01-29T09:06:00.000-08:00

I'm sure these home-related posts are boring, but what can I say? I am almost ready to post before/after pictures of the new place, but not quite yet! However here are some photos I have taken.

The first is of our fireplace with Christmas decorations hanging around it. Not how I would have put them up, mind you, but I think they look pretty funny:

Then a photo of our street. It's so freaking Irish, this neighborhood. When I first moved to Dublin and I saw these kinds of neighborhoods, I thought they looked like where little people came to live:

I wish these streets had trees, but there's no room, sadly. I wish we could plant a tree in the back patio, but then there'd be only shade since it's so small!

Here's the view from our front door. When I took this, it was a very misty night and I thought it looked spooky:

2010-01-10T11:44:00.001-08:00

Today we finally started painting the livingroom! I will definitely post before and after photos when the place is close to how I want it. We'll be utilizing a lot of hand-me-downs from Mark's family -- there are a lot of gems just rotting in a shed behind his uncle's house. I can't wait to put them back in action!

I have other posts in the works, but until I unpack the chord that connects my camera to my computer, I will hold off.

Things I learned: thick bleach is really good at cleaning mold, and these old cement houses are a real bitch when it comes to hanging anything from the walls. I had a curtain rod up with 4 screws (including drywall plugs), and the freaking thing just fell off the wall! So I spackled it all back up, and will try, try again. Not feeling confident about it though.

I can't wait to see how the paint (a tannish brown) looks in the daylight! And now that we painted behind the bookcase, we can unpack the books. This is HUGE! Someday this place will be homey, if it kills me.

2010-01-04T09:38:00.000-08:00

Back to politics. I didn't actually post about the Blasphemy Bill when it was all going on/ getting passed a few months ago. But now that it's gone into effect, you bet your sweet buns I'm posting about it now.

For those of you who don't know, Ireland passed a law last year that makes it a crime to say anything "that is grossly abusive or insulting in relation to matters held sacred by any religion, thereby causing outrage among a substantial number of the adherents of that religion; and he or she intends, by the publication of the matter concerned, to cause such outrage," punishable with a fine up to 25k euro. Now, on one hand, you might think well gosh, why would you want to make any kind of a statement that's insulting or would cause outrage to anyone, anyways? But you see, I am highly insulted by that question. And outraged. And abused.

My first point is this: who is to say what falls into this obtuse criteria? If a large enough group hysterically cries insult, is that enough? And how many is "a substantial number"? When I taught English Composition, I always warned my students against using unclear terms of measurement open to wide margins of interpretation. If a student of mine handed me this law, I would fail it. There is no true way to measure who is legally breaking this law.

My second point: What on earth is the purpose of this law? Haven't religious institutions been protected enough? And where did that get us. We should have laws protecting us from religion, not the other way around. So, the Catholic church doesn't want to be full of "outrage," the victims of abuse, or have insulted those things they deem sacred? Yeah - neither do the rest of us, but that hasn't stopped the Church from abusing, outraging, and insulting millions and millions of people over the past few centuries. So where's the law that protects us from it?

This law is such a piece of garbage, it's embarrassing. Why not draft a law that focuses on something that really hurts, like hate crimes? Didn't anyone in the government ever hear the schoolyard saying, "sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never hurt me"? I mean, grow up and realize that trying to control what people say does not work. And it doesn't change how people feel, and it will only make people feel that they need to act in a manner even more intense. Free speech can be a pain sometimes, because you have to deal with people being able to legally say things you don't agree with and find offensive. But it's free speech that protects institutions as well as individuals in the end. The blasphemy law protects no one, and time will show that.

Already journalists all over the world are writing about this law, making a mockery of Ireland. And you know what? Honestly, if I didn't already live here, I wouldn't visit based solely on this law alone, that's how offensive I find it. I would rather give my tourist money to a country that tries to promote and foster a way for people of various beliefs to live together peacefully rather than to try and dictate who can say what, and what is offensive, and what is not, and to silence unfashionable words and ideas. And surely, when it comes to religion in Ireland, did they not have bigger fish to fry than this?

2010-01-02T10:16:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! Actually I'm not much of a New Year's fan. Something always happens to screw up my night, no matter what. So I generally just don't even put any effort into having a good time. That sounds lame, doesn't it? But I guess my answer to the pressure of having some kind of monumental time is to say screw it, and give up.

We are still trying to get our place in order. We have one room nearly full of CRAP that the previous tenant left that needs to get picked up by the landlord. Until that happens, we can't set up our desks, and the rest of the house will be a tad squished. But that's ok because there is still so much cleaning that needs to happen, it's nuts. Every day brings some kind of new disgusting surprise. It's like the guy never cleaned once the whole time he lived here. Yesterday I spent a billion hours prepping the shower and then re-sealing it. I need to re-grout it, but at least now the tiles aren't coming off the wall! Today I scrubbed the kitchen walls, which was no small feat, and then I finished replacing the bathroom towel holder, tootbrush holder, and soap dish because the old ones were wooden and moldy/discolored. I don't understand wooden bathroom accessories. We've washed all the curtains, even though hopefully I'll make new ones eventually. And we started prepping the walls for painting, but we need a ladder before we actually paint. It's going to be a pain in the butt to do, but when it's done this place will look 80% better.

Yes, that's my exciting life right now. I want to post about Ireland's blasphemy law, but I think I'll wait until tomorrow to do that!

2009-12-30T08:20:00.000-08:00

Yesterday marked one year since I touched down in Dublin with two bags each easily twice the size of myself (and I mean that), plus my bike and my cat Gypsy. I arrived at about 5a.m. then promptly went to sleep. On the plane over, it took me a good hour to stop crying. To be honest, the emotions I felt when I left made me wonder if I was doing the right thing by leaving my friends and family behind to go to a place I didn't know anything about.

The first few months were not easy. Sure, if you read my blog it looks pretty rosy, but I can tell you I felt homesick; discouraged by running out of money and not being able to find work; hemmed in by the rainy, windy weather; at times depressed because I didn't have any friends; frustrated at getting lost and having to look at maps, not to mention trying to negotiate the buses; isolated from people back home whenever bad news struck -- you name it, I felt it. Some days I would just log onto my gmail and wait for people in the US to wake up so I could talk to them, and then would do little else all day.

But slowly things started to turn around. I began to make friends. I got used to being broke! The weather got a bit warmer and drier. I started to realize that there are places in Dublin to have fun without spending a ton of money. I started being better at exploring the city. I started getting back to the things I used to enjoy doing, and found some new hobbies too. I set up a work table for myself. Basically, I got myself out of my rut.

So looking back on the past year, I feel satisfied. Did I accomplish everything I would have liked to this year? Hell, no. But was it a happy year? It definitely was. And for the first time in many, many years, I'm going to have a couple of New Year's resolutions!

However, the weather over the past few days does remind me of what I encountered when I first got to Ireland. I'll take a snowstorm any day over this wind and rain. All I can think of to do is stay inside as much as possible, safe in my little hovel! It's so easy to hole yourself away when it's like this and decide not to come out until Spring. But sadly, spring won't be much better! Living in Ireland means coming to terms with the crap weather. So I'm going to make an effort to go out and do fun things rather than stay in with tea (ok, whiskey) and TV just to stay warm and dry. But I gotta tell ya, it ain't gonna be easy.

2009-12-23T16:00:00.000-08:00

Just a note to say HI! I'm still alive! We "moved house" yesterday, and it's been sort of nuts. First, there was having to pack all of our stuff. Considering that apartments come furnished, we had a surprising amount of stuff. We managed to get help from a new friend of ours who has a small van, but it took three trips!

However, our new cool, homey place wasn't exactly what we planned on. Our landlord didn't have time to really do anything to the apartment since the guy before us moved out (the day before, admittedly), but also the guy left a TON of stuff behind. And nearly all of it junk, too.

Additionally, he apparently didn't use the front bedroom, and had shut the radiator off. So there's a bit of a "damp" problem in there. Today we shuffled stuff around all day, trying to clean mildewy spots and move furniture to where it needed to be, which was no small feat considering all the extra crap in here. When we moved the nicer wardrobe from the front room into our bedroom, we realized the extent of the damp problem in that room. It wasn't actually "damp," but "wet." Half the wall was actually wet. However the landlord luckily supplied a dehumidifier for us, and it's working away. My hope is that with some heat and a dehumidifier, cleaning, and a bit of paint, we can say good-bye to the damp and mildew.

But seriously I'd like to punch the previous tenant in the mouth. The filter on the washer/dryer unit appears to never have been cleaned out. The inside of the microwave is RUSTED (yes, the microwave is rusted -- you read that right) -- because the dude never took the plastic off the vent on it, so the moisture has never escaped. It's literally the dirtiest microwave I've ever seen. Every nook and cranny seems to contain some new horror.

HOWEVER, having said that...I think this place has amazing potential. The kitchen is adorable. We've been cleaning it and re-arranging things to get it work-able. The livingroom will be spectacular with a coat of paint and some nice things on the walls. It's just not as much space as we'd hoped. Actually I take that back -- it's just that we have too much STUFF. But it will all fit nicely with some planning (and maybe help from Ikea). We are going to get rid of the bed in the front room, move the small futon from the living room into there, and then snag one of Mark's uncle's extra arm chairs for its place. The landlord said she would pay for paint, so all we have to do is pick some colors and do it. I'm thinking a nice simple caramel for the living room.

But the biggest thing is cleaning. The guy who lived here before clearly never cleaned once while he lived here. The shower is downright disgusting. The only thing to do is re-grout the tiles. But despite all the work that needs doing, when I look around I see a vision of it in my head and I can't wait to execute it!

Tomorrow we start cooking, and won't stop until Friday afternoon. Then it's back to home improvement. Merry Christmas, everyone!

2009-12-16T16:29:00.001-08:00

I will never be a bag lady.

And by that I mean I will never be one of those people who gives a bunch of presents in gift bags. One thing about living in a different country is that you discover your customs are foreign in ways you never expected. For example: in my house, when you give a gift that's soft, like clothing, you wrap it in a box. Usually, the store will give you said box for free. Maybe this is why they call America the land of plenty -- all you gotta do is say, "Can I get a box with that?" and there you go, FREE BOX for your wrapping pleasure. I quickly realized that gift boxes aren't really a "thing" here, but I thought no problemo, I'll just buy gift boxes somewhere. Because at home you can buy them at any pharmacy, stationery store, or department store. Well, let me just say I've been to a LOT of shops in Dublin this week, and there are no gift boxes to be had. I mean, Easons had these really small fancy things that looked like pre-wrapped boxes, but not clothing gift boxes. Just gift bags. Everywhere.

Mark insisted that his family wraps soft items as-is, and that it was "the way it's done," but I actually did not believe him. But then I talked to a friend about it and she corroborated his testimony. Not only that, but she didn't get what I even meant, that's how foreign the concept of gift boxes for clothing was. She also said that half the fun of Christmas was feeling the presents and trying to guess what they were. After a brief pause, I said, "Yeah...we tried to guess by shaking the boxes."

The idea of wrapping an irregularly shaped object is horrifying to me. Everything must be in a box!!! Is that weird? Even if it is, I still think it's better than handing someone a gift bag

2009-12-13T11:22:00.000-08:00

A Study in Irish Politics. (Language not suitable for Children.)

You know, he sure would have sounded a lot less crazy if he hadn't apologized in the next breath. If you have the guts to yell F*** you in the Dail, then I don't see why you should take it back.

2009-11-28T09:16:00.000-08:00

A strange thing happened the other day. I was on the 123 bus, headed home, getting off at the next stop. I stood a couple of feet back from the driver, behind the line, facing a row of seats, waiting to get off, when the woman across from me leaned over, touched my hand that gripped the pole, and said, "Dear....Would you say a prayer for me?" I said, "Sure!" As soon as I said that, we passed a church, and everyone around me crossed themselves.

It was a truly surreal moment. The poor woman probably chose the only atheist on the bus to say a prayer for her. But I did it just the same.

2009-11-25T04:45:00.000-08:00

Remember Gary Numan? If you grew up in the 80s or were an adult in the 80s, you do. Maybe you were even a "Numanoid" back in the day! Well, can you believe that his album "Pleasure Principle" came out THIRTY years ago? I know, right? Here, you can reminisce over the video for one of his biggest hits, "Cars."

I've never seen someone look so cool while playing the tambourine. (I tried to find a youtube of his performance of it on Urgh! A Music War, but to no avail.)

Anyhoo - the show was at Tripod (you may remember me complaining about their stingy whiskey pouring a few weeks ago), which is a pretty good-sized venue (maybe a third bigger than the Paradise in Boston), and I had honestly wondered if maybe it would be half empty, not knowing if anyone would remember him after all this time, and especially after that industrial phase he went through in the 90s. But when we showed up during the opening act, the place was already quite full. And the crowd was enthusiastic!! Which was good because it was a pretty elaborate setup compared to the shows I generally go to. Lots of lights!

(photo by Barry Delaney)
Of course, since this was the "Pleasure Principle Tour 2009" he started off with a bunch of old hits, which the crowd went wild for. At the start, I rolled up a napkin and shoved the rolls into my ears, like I always do (I really need to start buying earplugs!), because I am fiercely protective of my hearing. But then halfway through the first song I thought, "You know what? I'm going to live a little. This isn't so loud. I can take it." He had four synthesizers, a bass player, and a drummer. The sound was big. I thought to myself, if he keeps this up, it will be amazing! But then, out went two of the synthesizers and in came two guitars. Time for the new stuff. I thought people would be rude about it, but as I looked around, the crowd was still very supportive. There wasn't the loose excitement in the air as with the old songs, but that could have also been because of the nature of the new songs, which are extremely heavy. For those songs, I put the makeshift earplugs back in!

But it made me think of something. Here's Gary Numan, he had all those hit songs when he was young. Then the years went on. He explored other musical avenues -- he evolved. He isn't the same person or the same musician as he was back then. But the love for his older music lives on, and let's face it, he has never had a hit like those old songs. He moved on, but his fans, overall, have not. It must be such a pain. I wonder if he resents his earlier music.

Here's what Gary had to say on his website about last night's show: "So, just finished the show in Dublin. Great crowd. We had a fairly catastrophic failure of one of the keyboard computers during Pure (we are using three this time for various duties) which took a few minutes to sort out. Luckily the crowd were very understanding. Our trusty back-up system failed at its first challenge. That idea obviously needs a rethink. Apart from that, the tour has been amazing so far. I'm playing keyboards on most of the Pleasure Principle songs which is a lot of fun for me and I'm really enjoying myself. The PP songs sound far stronger than I thought they would, the newer songs in the second half seem to work really well, the lights (when we can fit them all in) look absolutely stunning. I'm very happy."

Poor Gary though. He is wearing the worst rug I've ever seen. It looks like a crow died on his head. I guess we all have to age. Here's another shot from the show last night

(photo by Barry Delaney)

I really enjoyed the show overall, but towards the end I was disturbed by some of the images he used as his backdrop were not cool for me -- they were images of women looking like cadavers, clearly alive, but dripping in blood and looking like they'd been dug up alive. First off, that really isn't an original motif. It's like yeah, yeah, we know you're heading into goth territory, we get it. But maybe throw some bloody guys in there, too? I didn't like the sort of sexualisation of bloody dismembered women. It wasn't cool. Or frightening. It was just lame.

But I am still very happy that we went! After the show we grabbed a pint at Anseo, which I had never been to. I liked the atmosphere. It might be a little too packed on a weekend night, but for a Tuesday night it was perfect. But having skipped dinner, I was starving, so we grabbed a couple of Falafel sandwiches and then headed home!

2009-11-24T05:03:00.000-08:00

Today's Irish Times featured two articles about immigration/emigration. While I wasn't surprised at all by what the articles said, the story they tell is no less annoying in my mind.

The first article, "Poll shows hardening of attitude toward migrants" says that according to the newspaper's poll, "the vast majority (72 per cent) of people want to see a reduction in the number of non-Irish immigrants living here." They go on to say that young people (ages 18 to 24) feel this most strongly. YET, the article goes on to say that the poll also showed that "some 40 per cent of those in the 18-24 age group say they are likely to emigrate" -- the highest of all the groups. So many of the same people who want to get rid of immigrants also want to become immigrants themselves. That's sort of hypocritical, don't you think?

The sad part, to me: "People in rural areas and those from less well-off backgrounds are also more likely to support a reduction in the number of foreign workers based here." That is, people who are most exploited by the government and capitalist system are least likely to blame the actual problems causing them to have lowered access to work rather than the scapegoat of the immigrant.

The other related article was called, "Lack of jobs brings change in attitudes to migration." The article seems to justify people's misguided fears, saying, "With mounting job losses and increased competition for scarce posts, it is little surprise to see enthusiasm for immigration has cooled significantly." Sure, it's not surprising. But it's also frightening. With these attitudes come action. Violence against immigrants has risen by a third over the past two years. I have personally seen people with dark skin on the street get yelled at by Irish nationals on more than one occasion. (Three, to be exact.) And yet the Irish are literally sprinkled around the globe. The proclivity for the Irish to migrate is a well known fact. So why this attitude? Maybe those who have chosen to stay and tough it out feel they have more rights than other people. I've heard people say that Irish-born have more of a right than non-nationals to get State financial aid. But what makes one human being more deserving of food, water, shelter, and health care than another one? It's an attitude I cannot get my head around. People who emigrate do so in search of something better for themselves, just as the Irish themselves have been doing for hundreds of years. We are all the world's citizens. I don't understand why we can't try to take care of each other.

2009-11-13T15:14:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, Mark and I wanted to do something a little different. We biked over to South William Street to a place called Spy, which Mark had read reviews of. When we walked in, the music was very promising. We grabbed a drink upstairs, and I figured we'd enjoy some dancing there. However, we search up and down for a dance floor, and there wasn't one! All the ladies looked like they just came from Penny's (that would be like Rave to you US folks). I had put together what I thought was a very cool and fashionable outfit, but I definitely didn't fit the crowd. We agreed to try somewhere else where we could get our dance on.

We chose the Button Factory. When we walked in, no one was dancing, but there was some good people watching. Neither of us recognized any of the music, which isn't really a big thing -- I like to hear music that I've never heard before -- but none of it made me want to get up and dance. It wasn't until rather late that people started to move onto the dance floor. They sort of trickled in -- the first was a drunken couple doing a sort of sloppy lambada.

Anyways, it was an ok night out, but I don't think I'll go back to either of those places looking for dancing!

2009-11-12T11:09:00.000-08:00

When I told people I was moving to Ireland, some people said, "Oooh! Free healthcare!" Well, on the one hand, it's pretty cool to have a medical card and not have to pay for medical care. On the other hand, here's how that plays out. Remember my rant about the new Irish policy about pap smears (aka smear test)? Well I figured I should run out and get one before the policy was implemented, so I did.

Several weeks later, I received a letter from the Health Service Executive (HSE) to call my doctor for the results. Admittedly, I put this off. So a few weeks ago, when Mark was in our doctor's office, she told him to tell me to give her a call. I called. And called. And called. And...called. Finally, I got in touch with the doctor, who told me that my test came back abnormal and that she would refer me to have a colposcopy.

Let's compare to how this went down in the US five years ago when I had a bad pap: A couple weeks after my appointment, my doctor called me personally to tell me the results, and referred me for a colposcopy, which I was able to get within a week or two.

Ok, so back to the here and now. So when I talked to the doctor on Friday, she mentioned that I would need to pick up a referral letter from her office...on Tuesday. Okey doke. On Tuesday I show up, get the letter, and I'm not sure what to do with it, but I call the Rotunda and the dude on the phone tells me that I have to physically bring the referral letter, which contains the lab results, to the Colposcopy Clinic, at which time my results will be evaluated and scored in terms of how severe it is. The people who do the lab test triage (only two doctors) only do so on Wednesdays and Thursdays. In two weeks, I'll get a letter saying that I've been put into the list to get an appointment.

When I brought the referral letter to the clinic, I was told that if my lab results are as bad as they can be, the soonest appointment I'll get will be in FEBRUARY. So I could have cancer and I wouldn't find out for three months, basically. Luckily, I looked at the labs and I know that I only have a slight abnormality, and I'm not overly concerned for myself. But if I were actually ill, I would be majorly screwed. Still, I won't get an appointment until March or April, most likely.

Know what's crazy though? The guy at the clinic said that the clinic has only been swamped like this since Jade Goody died. So essentially her death caused loads of women to get smear tests. And those who had abnormalities probably never would have gotten them checked out and would be walking around not getting treatment. I know that a lot of people thought it was lame how public she made her death, but actually it seems like doing it that way has done some good in educating people.

I don't want friends and family reading this to be worried -- I'm sure it's nothing at all, and even if I have dysplasia, there are treatments to take care of it. So I'm not worried, and neither should you be! However I wanted to make this post because I think people should know that "free" medical care isn't all it's cracked up to be.

2009-11-11T08:03:00.001-08:00

I just realized that I never blogged about Halloween! I guess it's a bit late, but better than never! Mark and I went to a Zombie party at Seomra Spraoi. Boy, zombie costumes are easy to get together. First off, for my outfit I used clothing that Mark's mom had given me. (I think she thinks I don't dress girly enough!) And then for Mark's outfit we went to "the Hill" aka an outdoor flea market area where he picked up a shirt and some jeans for a couple of bucks. Then we shredded them all up and I used red watercolors that I had in my art supplies for blood, some talcum powder, and eyeshadow. The effect was nice! Though I'm only going to post small versions of the photos:

The party was a whole lot of fun, and we danced a bit, which is always good. But it's funny, I've seen hundreds of photos from the party, and in those, not one is of me and/or Mark! Oh well!

2009-11-04T04:27:00.000-08:00

Ripped from the headlines!

Supreme Court confirms golf club's right to exclude women

I find this to be a bummer, but it isn't surprising at all. It was only a few years ago that women were even allowed in bars here. See, most pubs are set up in a manner I don't think I had ever seen in the US: you've got the Bar section, which was traditionally only for men to bro down, and then you've got the Lounge section, which is for men and women. Even though it's been a few years since it became illegal to refuse to serve women in the Bars, still many Bars are predominately male.

A few months ago, Mark and I went to this pub called the Hut in Phibsboro, and we decided to sit at the bar. There was an old dude sitting next to me, ranting about something or other. I didn't really pay him much attention, and then after a drink or two Mark said he wanted to leave. When we got outside, he said to me, "How about that guy next to you, huh? Going on and on about women in bars!" Then I thought back to what the man had been saying. He was talking about how bars used to be so great, but now they are crap because they aren't all men anymore. He was ranting about a pub in Fairview that refused to serve a woman, so she sued them, and ("Can you believe it?") she won! Yes, the whole world is going to hell in a hand basket.

So I guess that dude from the Hut must be feeling pretty smug today.

2009-11-02T09:34:00.000-08:00

Well I have a lot of catching up again, as usual! After today I will make a concerted effort to be more regular with my updates. I've been procrastination city lately!

So, after months of hard work, RAG finally produced the fourth issue of their magazine,"The Rag." And if I do say so, it looks pretty amazing. Here I am, holding my brand new copy fresh from the printer:

The magazine was printed just in time for the London Anarchist Book fair and our magazine launch party at Housmans Book Shop.

I really lucked out because I was informed about this Anarchist Seminar that was taking place in London the day before the launch party, and they were offering travel funding for participants. So I applied, and they actually paid for my travel to and from London! Otherwise I would not have been able to go. It only cost about 71 euro (105 USD) to get there and back, but that's 71 euro I really didn't have.

I further lucked out because one of the London anarcha-feminists agreed to put us up at her place, so I also didn't have to pay for accommodation. With free travel and a free place to stay, all I had to pay for was getting around on the bus and tube (a 20 pound Oyster card lasted me four days), and my food -- and I actually managed to get some extremely cheap food while I was there, so to be honest, I probably spent less on my trip to London than I would have if I'd stayed home!

Anyhoo - I had a fantastic time. Here's a rundown of my trip.
Thursday: My friend and fellow ragster, Holly, and I did the sail and rail, which entailed taking a DART (that's like the commuter rail to my Boston friends) to Dún Laoghaire, then we went to the grocery store to stock up on cheap eats for the trip and beyond because the prices for food along our journey were going to be ridiculous, not to mention the nutritional value. Then we hopped on the Ferry. I don't know WHY - but I was expecting something a lot smaller and a lot skimpier -- more like the ferry that takes you to Staten Island or the ferry that takes you to Burano and Murano in Venice. But this was much bigger and flashier, complete with a "casino room" that had electronic slot machines in it. I took a photo just to give an idea of the interior:

The ferry was about two hours, which was plenty for me because there were a lot of swells and I was feeling quite green by the time we got to Wales. From there, we got three trains into London. I actually have no idea how long that took -- over three hours, I think. By the time we got to Euston Station in London, I was pretty freaking tired. But then I said good-bye to Holly, who was staying with a friend, and hopped on a bus to a neighborhood called Stoke Newington. A very nice woman, my host for the weekend, named Sue, was waiting for me when I got off the bus.

You know what is cool? Getting off a bus in a foreign country, meeting up with a complete stranger, having a nice chat, and staying over her house, knowing that you are safe and taken care of. The anarcha-feminist community is such a small and supportive network -- I feel blessed to be part of it. So I fell asleep, and in the morning Sue gave me keys to her place so I could come and go as I pleased.

Friday: I set off in search of the seminar. It was called a "Drifting Seminar," and you were supposed to figure out where it was taking place by following Twitter posts. This was a challenge, as I don't have internet on my phone, and I didn't have my computer, but I managed to figure it where it was (luckily in Hackney, not far from where I was staying), and Holly and I spent the morning sitting in a circle in a park with about 15 other people talking about all different sorts of things. I wasn't sure I would have anything to say, but as it turns out, I did make a couple of comments that added to/ sparked an interesting discussion, so I didn't feel useless.

Then we broke for lunch, and everyone walked up the road to Pogo Cafe for a nice vegan meal. I had a "punk burger" which was delicious. Everyone started mingling and chatting each other up and getting acquainted. Here we are after lunch, waiting to make our next move:

Then we all hopped on a bus and went to the London Action Resource Centre, or LARC for short, which is kind of like a small Seomra Spraoi (and if you're a Boston friend, I have no analogy to make). We were joined by a few more and continued our conversation, which didn't flow as naturally as before, but was productive nonetheless. But then Holly and I had to bag out because we had to go to our magazine launch party!! YAY!

Clare, Ariel, Shonagh, and Sheila were all coming from Dublin on Friday, so we kind of expected that they'd all beat us there, with piles of magazines in hand, but we were a little surprised and dismayed to arrive at 7:05pm, five minutes late, and be the first RAG people to arrive. But all was saved when the others arrived shortly thereafter! The book store provided wine and chairs, and we presented our magazine and our individual articles, and took many questions from the attendees. Here's what it looked like from my perspective at the back of the store:

And here's what it looked like from the front of the store, facing towards me:

The launch was so successful. We sold about 40 copies of the magazine, and left a bunch more. The respect given to RAG was impressive -- this group has been going strong for over four years now, and is well known in its little circle. I think a lot of groups like ours would really like to produce a magazine as well, and so we got a lot of questions about our process and about some of the nuts and bolts of production. I felt like we were sharing valuable information and ideas. I wish everyone in the group could have been there.

After the launch, a large group of people went to a pub to continue celebrating. I couldn't believe how inexpensive the alcohol was compared to Dublin. I got a shot of Knob Creek whiskey (KC - how I missed you!) for like two pounds -- I couldn't believe it. Luckily, we didn't stay out too too late, because I was tired! Here's a photo outside the pub of Sheila and Sue (left), the woman I stayed with:

This captures the jovial mood we were all in.

Saturday: The day of the Anarchist Book Fair! Held at Queen Mary College (part of London University, I think) his thing was pretty huge. I think there were three big rooms full of tables with vendors. You could get all manner of items: t-shirts, patches, books, posters, art prints, magazines, fanzines, DVDs, and more. People think of anarchism as a term to mean chaos, or even nihilism, and so it can be a little confusing for those who think of anarchy as only a punk thing. It's not. People of all ages and styles and races are anarchists. This was my first anarchist book fair, and so it was fun for me to see so many people there. And there were workshops being held in different rooms throughout the day.

Here's a photo collage to give an idea of what the room we were in was like. It was actually much more crowded at times than in this photo:

There was also really tasty vegan food there that you could feast on for merely a donation. YUM.

Here's our table, which we shared with a fantastic RAG friend from Finland, with her lovely patches and things, and our distro stuff. That's the lovely Clare on the right:

I guess it's customary to go to this one gigantic bar down the street after the fair each year, so of course we had to do that. Then we were off to a party at the anarchist book store called Freedom Bookshop:

But then everyone I was with wanted to go to a squat party. I went along, but felt really uneasy once we got there because there was a mob out on the sidewalk and the police were there. When the police started to multiply, I started to get more nervous. However, I think I was the only one! Here's what it looked like from across the street (sorry that it's so dark):

I was trying to go with the flow, but then when they announced that they wanted to get everyone inside as quickly as possible and to "get your five pounds ready" I was like NO WAY. I just had to admit to myself that I wasn't comfortable going inside to a place that I envisioned as being really crowded. I realized that I officially am not punk, and maybe have turned into an old fart, but I was like "I gotta go!" and gave everyone a hug and took off. It wasn't the best neighborhood and I had literally NO idea which direction Sue's apartment was (though I did know that it wasn't that far away), but I managed to hail a cab and get home for only ten pounds -- much cheaper than paying to get into the party and buying drinks all night. When I walked into Sue's, the relief I felt to be in for the night told me that I'd made the right decision.

As it turns out, the party was not crowded inside, because the place was gigantic, which you couldn't tell from the outside. But judging from the rough shape everyone was in the next day (not to mention stolen items at the party), I never regretted my decision.

Sunday: After a nice late sleep in, Holly and I met Sheila at a feminist networking meeting at LARC. Getting to chat with so many like-minded women made a huge impression on me, and felt comforting in so many ways. We brainstormed ideas of things we'd like to do in the future, and they served a much needed meal to all the attendees.

After the meeting, we had a little time to kill, so Holly, Sheila and I walked around London over to Tower Bridge, which embarrassingly I had never even heard of. It's huge:

I took some silly photos, and then Holly insisted that she take one of me too:

You might notice that I chopped off my hair. I forgot to blog about that!

Another couple shots of the bridge:

And then we all spit off the bridge into the water below, because that's what ladies do:

We went back to Sue's for a nice early night, where one of the other London women was hanging out over some wine. Holly and Sheila made hot whiskeys and we all chatted for a few hours. On Monday, Sheila and I woke up early and caught a bus, five trains, a ferry, and two other buses back to Dublin. Holly stayed on for another day.

The long weekend was one of the best I've ever had, full of positivity, fun, new friends, and incredible kindness. My host, Sue, was generous and kind, and not only that, a real cool lady. I hope she comes to Dublin so I can return the favor! Although I have to say -- I was really, really happy to come home. :)

2009-10-19T14:47:00.000-07:00

On Saturday night RAG hosted a film screening at Seomra Spraoi: two documentary films concerning the subject of abortion. The first, "Abortion Democracy: Poland-South Africa" was a comparison of Poland taking away the right to legal abortion and South Africa's granting it. Yet, paradoxically, it is actually easier to obtain an illegal abortion in Poland than it is to get a legal one in South Africa, since the proper infrastructures have not been put in place in South Africa.

The second film, "The Coat Hanger Project" was about what's happening in the US since Roe vs. Wade is now 36 years old. Essentially the Anti-Choice movement has been growing and gaining strength due to people's complacency -- especially since anyone roughly 40 or younger has no memory of the US before legal abortion.

The film makers, Sarah and Angie, were lovely lovely people. We took a group photo after the event:

After the films we all went to a housewarming party at a place quite near our house, which was very convenient. I announced that this was my first real party since coming to Ireland, much to everyone's surprise and dismay! I received many heartfelt apologies, which was very sweet. The wine was flowing and everyone was in a grand old mood. I had a fantastic time, and even danced to a few songs, thus unveiling the "video ho" to my friends here. I also took a short film of people dancing. You can't see much, but I find it incredibly telling of the good time had by all nevertheless:

2009-10-17T05:56:00.000-07:00

Remember that first time I was an extra on my favorite soap opera, Fair City?? Well, the two scenes I was in aired! I didn't think they would be on until Sunday, so naturally I started yelling, "That's me! That's meeee!" when I suddenly appeared on my own television screen.

Then I made dorky animated gifs of myself. (in the background, of course!)

2009-10-17T04:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we had a nice fun-filled day. First, when we woke up, we did some much needed strength training. As the weather gets a little nippier, my waist is getting a little bigger. I mean, my pants still fit, but they aren't as loose as they were this summer after I came back from Florida, that's for sure! Then we went up to Uncle Billy's house to check on him and help him do some things around the house. After all that was done, we figured we had earned a visit to the Paulaner Oktoberfest that was going on at the IFSC, in the Docklands. Since it was a free event, we figured we should check it out!

Our steins are proportioned to our body size! Inside the big tent:

The band:

Sadly there was no free beer, and even the soft pretzels cost 2 euro each, We still managed to sample the delicious Paulaner on tap for not too much money, and enjoy people watching and the band, which cost nothing. A lot of the long tables were reserved, but we scored a couple of seats on a table right up next to the band, and miraculously we didn't get kicked off either!

I asked a woman next to us to take our photo, but as you can tell from the quality of the picture, she may have had a couple of steins of beer:

I took a little video of the band, for your amusement:

Then we headed over to the Dublin to Gaza benefit gig at Tripod. The idea was that in addition to being a fundraiser, the concert would also be shown live on a large screen in Gaza. However, apparently they were experiencing power outages, so that sadly didn't happen.

When we first walked in, Liam Ó Maonlaí from the Hothouse Flowers was playing. It wasn't really our thing, so we hung out in the bar area, where I got the tiniest whiskey I've ever had in my life. I actually complained, which I've never done in my 15 years of being legal drinking age. I said to the guy that it was the smallest whiskey I'd ever seen and he said it was a full "Irish measure," holding up a measuring cup, and if I wanted more, I'd "pay more." It seemed so crappy to me that a barman would measure out a shot and not throw in a little extra. Not for 5.50, anyways!! So needless to say I didn't order another drink.

We strolled back into the venue as MC Lowkey was performing. He was really good! It's nice to see rap that isn't all about bling and commercialism.

I took a little video of him rapping down the alphabet:

Then the Irish band Kíla came on. The crowd was really pumped. Kíla definitely have a very Irish sound, using traditional instruments like the Bodhrán, whistle, and fiddle. Apparently last night's show was low-key for them, and usually it's like a gigantic mosh pit with people jumping up and down in excitement. To most of the audience, their music stirred up something old within, but for me the music was exotic, and so the entire experience was fascinating. My eyes flitted back and forth from the performers to the audience, many of whom were jumping up and down with excitement through much of the show.

We biked home, having had a long day full of things to think about!

2009-10-17T04:27:00.000-07:00

Well, as you may or may not know, Hillary Clinton was in Ireland recently for a couple of days. Her visit engendered one of the most wacky newspaper headlines I've ever seen, mostly because I have no freaking idea what it means. Here it is:
Hillary does the power trip and then the glad-handing love-in

Without consulting anyone, I just can't fathom what a "glad-handing love-in" means. I hope it's a good thing, though. Because it sounds a little PG-13 if you ask me!

2009-10-17T04:10:00.000-07:00

The other day I saw something new. I was at the bus stop, waiting in front of somewhat heavy traffic when an ambulance went by. I noticed that the young woman standing next to me was giving herself the sign of the cross. Then another ambulance went by and she did it again. That's when I looked up and saw a guy in the van on the street in front of me crossing himself too, and then another person in another car too. To me, this is such an emblem of how religious people in Ireland can be. But also, maybe, how superstitious.

2009-10-13T05:08:00.001-07:00

My first autumn in Dublin. It's getting chilly out and the smell of burning peat is in the air (and I'm sure it's no coincidence that my asthma is flaring up too). This is my first autumn in my life away from the Northeast of the US. Now, the leaves are falling here just as they do back home. But oh do I miss the foliage!

Back home the leaves are turning bright yellow, orange, and red. Here they just seem to turn a yellowish brown and fall off. It's kind of a let down! But maybe there is foliage to be found outside of the city. Still, I can't believe it would ever match the spectacular views of New England!

2009-10-13T04:03:00.000-07:00

A week ago Monday I had another turn at being on the small screen. This time, I got to work on the outdoor set of Fair City! On the RTE grounds there stands a little fake street in a little fake town called Carrigstown. Apparently they used to film on an actual street, but after a while that became too complicated, so they recreated the street on the RTE grounds. When we stepped on set, the crew wasn't around yet, so naturally I whipped out my camera:

These buildings might look real, but they are all made of some kind of heavy duty plaster or something. When you knock on what you think is a cement block, it sounds hallow or something. Even the houses to the right are fake. I must admit, they got it dead on.

My day was mostly spent strolling up and down this "street" in circles while various scenes were performed. Once I got to walk out of Vinos while a scene was being filmed on the table in front. But my key scene was the courthouse scene. I got to come out of the "courthouse" after the actors and be fake interviewed on the courthouse steps while the actors had a conversation down on stage left. I can't wait to see what that looks like!

2009-10-09T05:55:00.000-07:00

Rag are hosting a film screening and discussion in Seomra Spraoi on October 17th, at 8pm.

Two film makers are on tour with films they have made on the subject of abortion. The first one is called The Coat Hanger Project http://www.thecoathangerproject.com/
and the second is Abortion Democracy: Poland/South Africa http://www.abortion-democracy.de/
The film makers will be there to talk about the films so there should be some great discussion afterward.

2009-10-09T05:11:00.000-07:00

Because both of us are out of work, we don't do a whole lot of things that aren't free or nearly free, but we did splurge just a little recently -- Mark surprised me with tickets to see the band Jesus Lizard at the Button Factory. I hadn't seen them play live since before they broke up. They played with Boys vs. Girls in Providence, Rhode Island and the show was incredible. Mark and I actually saw a Jesus Lizard cover band play in Boston two years ago, and even that was fantastic.

When it was time to leave for the show, I wasn't sure if I was in the mood for a show that night, but when we got there I started to get psyched. But then when they played those first few notes, I was screaming like a Beetles fan. I tried to take photos, but without a flash they didn't come out like much.

The crowd was extremely enthusiastic, and people were crowd surfing like it was 1993 all over again. ha ha! Since I may not get the chance to ever see them play live again, I was pretty pumped about having tickets to this show.

2009-10-03T04:20:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, I really felt like seeing a movie, so Mark and I went to The Lighthouse Cinema over in Smithfield to see the one movie we could agree on. Holy moly, the Lighthouse has got to be the fanciest movie theater I've ever been to. When you walk in, you feel like you're walking into a museum. Then you walk down the stairs to where the movies are, and it's like an Escher drawing. It didn't feel like a movie theater at all. There's even a little museum-style cafe in it. But they do give discounts for people on the dole, so that was cool. And the snacks didn't seem to be any more than at a regular theater.

We saw this British movie called "Fish Tank." I read the description at home, and once again proved the master of predicting plot lines. Unfortunately, the movie included a kind of disturbing statutory rape scene, which I totally called from the description, but otherwise I thought it was a really good film. But I will definitely try to go back to the Lighthouse Cinema again!

2009-10-03T03:52:00.000-07:00

Jeezum I guess it's been a while! I still feel busy, even though of course I haven't gotten a job. I've been doing layout for the annual magazine that RAG puts out, which entailed teaching myself how to use InDesign. If I had known how relatively straightforward it is, I would have taught myself a long time ago and would have probably been able to get a better job back in Boston. Anyhoo - I think it's going to look fantastic, and I hope that the women in my group thinks so too. It's the fourth issue of the magazine, and they seem to get just a little better each time.

So, catching up, back on the 19th, Mark and I went to the art space called The Joinery to see a documentary about Bow Street. I didn't realize it at the time, but it was part of the Fringe Fest. Here's the description of the movie, aptly named Bow Street, by Tadhg O'Sullivan: "Shot and recorded over a month on a narrow Dublin street of bustling barristers, bowed street-drinkers, box-ticking tourists, proud and shamed seekers-of-a-free-lunch at the Capuchin day centre, Bow St. is a film and exhibition that hurries and slows to the criss-crossing paces of a hundred passers-by. The camera traces the movements and pauses of everyday lives; voices drift in and out with personal stories, musings on life and love, fuck ups and forgiveness, holding on and letting go. A unique look past the assumed anonymity of our urban lives."

It was a voyeuristic view of the street, at times funny, but mostly sad. I guess I felt odd watching this documentary in an artist gallery, being all hoity toity while the people on the screen were in such rough shape. I liked the way it didn't have a voice-over the way a traditional documentary does, but at the same time, sometimes they would put captions on the screen to highlight what people were saying, yet they didn't caption every word. This meant that only certain phrases came up on the screen, taken, in some cases, out of context. On one hand, it drew your attention in an interesting way to things you might not have taken notice of, but on the other hand, I sort of resented the fact that my attention was handed to me on a plate like that. Visually, there was never a dull moment in the film.

I had never been to the Joinery before, and I really enjoyed the space. Out front was a photography exhibition, which consisted of stills from the movie along with headphones for each photograph. When you put the headphones on, you felt suddenly like you weren't looking at a still, but a moving picture. The movie was shown in a back room lined with couches and chairs. We brought a couple of beers and drank them while we watched the movie. It was quite comfortable (though maybe would have been more so if we'd have gotten seats!).